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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23461711">Chaste</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lehenne/pseuds/Lehenne'>Lehenne</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Gen, M/M, Matt Mudock is from the Chaste, Past Abuse, Self-Mutilation, Younger Matt murdock, autistic matt murdock, nothing graphic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:47:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23461711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lehenne/pseuds/Lehenne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Where the Defenders find a teenage Matt Murdock, trained by the Chaste since he was blinded at the age of four, alone and a bit lost as to what to do with himself</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Luke Cage &amp; Jessica Jones &amp; Matt Murdock &amp; Danny Rand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>192</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have no idea what I'm doing there, I don't even know if I have any more ideas for futur chapters ? Let me know what you think of it ?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They'd been following a lead about weird disappearances. Mostly low lives, so no one was looking <em>that</em><span> hard. But one of them had a family, which hired Jessica Jones, which in turn called for her friends when her lead, well, led her to an abandonned warehouse. She hated those, and wasn't so stupid as to think she could go in alone ; The place could be crawling with bad guys, or whatever. And she hated fighting. Which wasn't the case of Danny Rand. And Luke Cage tagged along because... Well she wasn't sure why. Shits and giggles maybe.</span></p><p>So here they stood, in front of one of the smallest warehouses around. The whole area was abandonned. Easier to hide criminal activity, and all that. Luke made his way around back, and Danny was ninja-ing his way to the rooftop. She gave them a minute to reach their destination, before unceremoniously crushing the big lock on the door. She dropped it and opened the sliding door, immediately scrunching her nose at the stench of rot. God, she hated warehouses.</p><p>There were no lights inside, not even filtering through the windows or whatever, because they were all obstructed by newspaper and cardboard panels. Complete darkness. Which didn't mean no one was there, by the way. It was nearly three in the morning, maybe whoever was in there was still asleep.</p><p>A loud crash from above brought down shattered glass, one Danny Rand, and a welcome ray of moonlight in the middle of the mostly empty space.</p><p>“So much for discretion, dipshit,” she said, her voice echoing eerily for a while. Danny shrugged a few pieces of glass loose from his hoodie.</p><p>“Not like there's anyone anyway,” he said looking around, squinting to see better, covering his nose at the smell.</p><p>“Then why are you whispering ?” He shrugged again, and turned toward the end of the warehouse.</p><p>Luke emerged from behind a steel stairwell, cluttered with woodcrates and apparently the whole spider population of the area, judging by the sheer amount of cobbwebs he was covered with.</p><p>“Great,” he mumbled, his low voice reaching his teammates easily. “Anyone's got a torch ?” He asked before covering his nose. “Fuck, what's that smell ?” Jessica sighed heavily while getting her phone out.</p><p>“Yeah, not like we have to be discreet anymore...” She scanned the place, noting that the only furniture consisted of a table against the far left wall, and a chair next to it. She took a step forward, and noted that the chair had ropes around the legs and armrests, and then identified the clutter on the table as torture tools. Great. She couldn't repress a shiver, and kept scanning the place. Pillar. Emptiness. Pillar. Creepy silhouette. Emptiness. Pillar. Her heart jumped in her throat as she did a double-take. The silhouette was still there, unmoving. A mannequin ? But no, she saw the almost imperceptible head tilt. Small build, scrawny body, almost definitely male, a baton in his left hand, clad in a red hoodie and his face covered in black, like a-</p><p>“<span>Fucking ninja,” she whispered without moving an inch. The silhouette disappeared. Fucking </span><em>vanished</em><span> into thin air. She tried to find him again with her flash, before Danny got her attention and pointed somewhere above them at one of the metalic beams. There the silhouette stood crouching, his head tilted toward the three of them.</span></p><p>“Hello ?” she attempted, because why not, he didn't attack right away, it was a good sign, right ?</p><p>The silhouette, she swears, puffed like an angry cat, right before dropping a few meters away, standing between them and the offices at the back of the warehouse. There had been no sound, not even when he landed. Was the guy a shadow, or something ? He still had his baton, but he didn't hold it threateningly, despite his defensive stance ; It was angled, barely touching the floor. A low growl rose from the guy, the first sound he'd made, and it would have been intimidating, if it didn't strike a weird cord in Jessica's... Whatever. “D'you live here ?” She asked, trying to figure out why the fucking shadow ninja with torture tools didn't intimidate her. The growling stopped. “D'you have a name ?” She took a step toward the ninja. She didn't see him move, but she very suddenly had the guy's baton jabbed in her chest. She'd stopped immediately, the ninja in front of her unnaturally still. He pushed her back almost gently, but before she could take a veeery slow step back, Luke was charging at the guy.</p><p>“Jess !” His voice boomed in anger. She could swear she saw the ninja flinch. Again, she didn't see what happened, but Luke crashed to the ground, an arm twisted in his back, and a ninja trying very hard to dislocate his shoulder.</p><p>“Wai-” she started, but Luke's roar filled the space once more as he threw his unwanted passenger into the air. The shadow landed neatly and silently, and immediately launched forward. Danny intercepted him, and the ninja didn't seem to hesitate as he changed his stance to engage him.</p><p>
  <span>Jessica would be incapable of describing whatever was going on right in front of her. Ninja shit was the best she could do. And it didn't look like in the movies. There was no place for large unnecessary pirouettes and weird useless somersaults. Each blow from either side was fluid, precise, concise, and most of all, fucking powerful. She could feel it from where she stood, and she could also tell Danny was starting to fucking </span>
  <em>struggle</em>
  <span>. Danny fucking 'living weapon' Rand was struggling and actually being pushed back. He wasn't attacking anymore, he was just trying to defend against the flow of blows sent his way. The shadow ninja still held his baton, by the way, and he wasn't even using it to attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Danny swayed on his feet, took a step back, and a golden glow filled the darkness as he gathered his chi in his hand. Immediately, the shadow leapt back, and fucking </span>
  <em>kneeled</em>
  <span>, his forehead to the ground. His arms stretched out, hands palms up like he was giving something, his baton maybe, that he still clutched like a lifeline.</span>
</p><p>“What the fu-” Jessica and Luke started in unison.</p><p>“Iron Fist,” A small, soft voice stated. Danny stood there, fist still raised, but the light was fading from it.</p><p>“Uh... Yeah ?” he said as if he wasn't certain, as if the fucker didn't claim he was the Iron Fist to everyone they ever met. And then the ninja said something else, but it wasn't any language Jessica had ever heard. Danny seemed more surprised than confused, so maybe it was one of those Chinese languages he spoke so fluently. Sure enough, when the ninja was done talking, and he was still prostrate by the way, Danny answered in the same dialect. After a bit of back and forth, during which Jessica and Luke held a silent, brow wriggling conversation, Danny turned around, shock still painted on his face. The ninja still hadn't moved.</p><p>“Care to fill us in ?” Jessica said with a false note of impatience. It was either this or total confusion.</p><p>“Uh, yeah, uh, he says he's from the Chaste,” he answered as if it was supposed to mean something to them.</p><p>“Which means ?”</p><p>“Oh, right, the Chaste is my personal army. I mean, the Iron Fist's personal army. So, mine.”</p><p>“What are the odds...” She sighed to herself. “So, does that mean he's at your orders or something ?”</p><p>“Yeah, I think so.”</p><p>“Well,” Luke continued, “what are you waiting for, ask him whatever's going on here. He speaks English or something ?”</p><p>Danny turned around to the unmoving guy, asked him something, from which Jessica recognised exactly two words; “English” and “K'un Lun”.</p><p>“Yes,” the ninja answered. Oh, score, one good news.</p><p>“Ok,” Jessica said, “good, how about you get up from the floor, you're making me nervous, buddy.” The soldier didn't move, didn't even seem to acknowledge her. She sighed heavily and raised an eyebrow at Danny.</p><p>“Uh, yeah, do what she said ?” The ninja got up, but held his head low, his baton hanging by his side. “How about you, uh, take that mask off first and uh, tell us your name ?” Danny didn't sound comfortable giving orders, but the ninja obliged obediently. He lowered his red hood, then efficiently yanked the black fabric off his face.</p><p>Uh.</p><p>A fucking kid. No more than fifteen. Unkempt, flaming red hair and ice-blue eyes... Fucking blind ice blue eyes.</p><p>“<span>No name,” he simply said, and that's what tugged Jessica's cords. A kid's voice. No wonder she couldn't get intimidated by it.</span></p><p>“Alright, but what do they call you ?” She asked fruitlessly. “Oh, for fuck's sake,” she hissed when the boy didn't react. “Danny Come on, do something.”</p><p>“Uh... Hey, assume they both speak for me and huh, you can answer them.” The boy bowed ever so slightly. But he didn't make a move to acknowledge Jessica.</p><p>“No name,” he said again anyway.</p><p>“<span>Where's the rest of that army of yours ?” Luke asked, taking a step toward Danny. The boy tapped his baton- no, his </span><em>cane</em><span> on the floor exactly once, the sharp thwack echoing in the warehouse, his head snapping toward Luke. A silent warning, which Luke took at face value; He stepped back.</span></p><p>“Hey, now, they're my friends, let them approach,” Danny ordered with less remorse this time. The boy tensed, then bowed more deeply than before. He didn't make another move when Luke approached this time. “Noone else is left.”</p><p>“What happened to the others ?” Danny asked.</p><p>“The hand.”</p><p>“What's that ?” Jessica asked a bit roughly, but the kid's two words answers were grating on her nerves.</p><p>“They're a secret ninja terrorist organisation,” Danny answered, because of course there would be one of those. “They're the enemies of K'un Lun, and it's my sacred duty to get rid of them.” Jessica sighed deeply again. “And the Chaste is supposed to follow me into the war against them.”</p><p>“Of course it is...” Despite all the questions she still had for the little ninja, she remembered she was here on business.</p><p>“D'you know anything about people disappearing around those parts ?” He shook his head. Well, so much for her lead. They didn't have any reason to linger. Well, she would have said that, if the ninja wasn't a kid. She considered herself heartless, but she guessed even she could feel some kind of motherly instinct. God, she hoped no one would ever know she just thought that. Her eyes wandered to the torture station on their left. “Whatever the fuck is all of that for, then ?” She pointed at the table and chairs, and then immediately wondered if he could tell what she was talking about. The boy tilted his head without turning around.</p><p>“My training,” he answered. A horrible chill went down her spine.</p><p>“What kind of training ?”</p><p>“Withstanding torture.” His voice was flat, not even a tremolo in the delivery.</p><p>“Shit,” Jessica exhaled forcefully.</p><p>“What kind of sick fuck...” Luke mumbled aggressively, but Danny didn't seem too unnerved.</p><p>“Ugh, yeah, those were the worst,” he said instead, throwing his head back for emphasis. Oh fuck, that's right, he had the same bullshit ninja training. Fuck. “How long have you trained anyway? You're very good, man,” Danny continued excitedly, like they hadn't dropped the torture sessions bombshell on their laps. The boy tilted his head and took a while to finally answer with a small shrug. Okay, this wasn't going anywhere.</p><p>“What are you doing here all by yourself anyway ?” This time he doesn't take too much time answering, just hesitated for a second.</p><p>“Protecting something.” Ugh, did he have to be so vague about everything ?</p><p>“Well, can you tell us what it is ?”</p><p>“Can't,” he shook his head.</p><p>“Hey, I'm the Iron Fist, you can tell me, it's fine,” Danny said, almost sounding like a concerned adult. The kid shook his head again.</p><p>“Can't,” he repeated, his grip shifting slightly on his cane.</p><p>“Come on, aren't you at my service or something ?” Danny pressed on.</p><p>“Can't.” There was a tiny, micro, barely-there note of... stress ? In his voice, the first inflection in his otherwise flat deliveries so far. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and shook his head a bit frantically.</p><p>“Maybe if I order you, you'll tell me ?” The ninja hummed softly, non-concomitantly. “I order you to tell me what you're protecting.”</p><p>“Can't,” he said wincing, shaking his head non-stop now. “Can't.” He rocked from left to right and tapped his cane rhythmically on the floor. “Can't.” He rose his voice with each word, and eventually, his free hand went to rub at his hair in the same rhythm as his rocking and tapping and head shaking, and. Well, she hadn't expected that.</p><p>“Dude-” Danny tried again, but Luke interrupted him with a hand on his shoulder. Danny turned to him with big doe eyes. “What's going on there ?”</p><p>“Never seen an autistic person before ?” Luke simply said to the clueless Iron Fist.</p><p>“An what ?” Luke cocked his head and gave a small smile.</p><p>“Figures,” he answered, “I'll explain later.” Jessica had reached her friends' side.</p><p>“You're not asking the right question,” she added, her attention back on the boy. He'd stopped his litany of 'Can't', now simply humming softly in rhythme with the rest of his personal dance.</p><p>“And what's the right question then ?” Danny said a bit forcefully. Luke directly addressed the boy.</p><p>“Why can't you tell us ?” There was a hitch in the boy's rocking, and then he slowed down marginally. Jessica almost missed the shrug among all his fidgeting.</p><p>“Don't know,” he answered before going back to humming. Gradually, he slowed down, his movements narrowing down. It was a good thing she knew he was autistic now, because she would have rolled her eyes two minutes ago at his vaguest answer yet.</p><p>“You don't know...” Luke started carefully. “Why you can't tell us ?” A head shake.</p><p>“Oh,” Danny realised, “You don't know what you're protecting.” The kid's movements stopped. Then he nodded. The three friends looked at each other, Danny silently begging for support on what to do next.</p><p>And shit, Jessica didn't sign up for any of this shit, but she couldn't seem to stop caring. She cringed internally, determined to get to the bottom of this now. They had to tread carefully, because the kid wasn't really into effective communication. She wished she had listened more closely to Trish when she'd very enthusiastically talked about the subject. Too enthusiastically for Jessica.</p><p>Luke went ahead with the softest voice she'd ever heard from him.</p><p>“We could take a look around, see if we can find what you're protecting.” The kid's only answer was a single step the side, as if he invited them to take a look around. The guys slowly went past him and toward the two doors at the back of the warehouse. Jessica scanned the place once more, in search of any kind of light switch. Her flash was good and they'd adjusted to the darkness somewhat, but it would be easier to snoop around with a real light source.</p><p>“So,” she said while looking around, “Who told you to protect whatever you're protecting ?” She hoped casualness would work on the kid, even though she had no idea what she was doing.</p><p>“Stick,” the kid answered eventually.</p><p>“Who's Stick ?” She'd found a big cable on the side of the wall, and followed it with her light.</p><p>“My Sensei.” Ah! She found her light switch. Now to hope the warehouse was on the grid.</p><p>“Where is he ?” She asked before flipping the switch. The echoing click sounded a tad too dramatic, considering nothing happened. Right away. A timid, buzzing neon slowly came to life, flashing on and off, followed by a second and a third. “Score.” Did she miss the kid's answer ? She turned back to him, to see that he had his head tilted to the ceiling and a puzzled expression on his face. “I turned the lights on,” she said, because maybe he wasn't used to the sound of the neons. Her attention involuntarily set on the table. Under the harsh lighting, she could now see the brown, dried blood all over the place. Looked like a horror movie set. She swallowed and turned back to the kid. “So, where's that Sensei of yours again ?” A shrug. He didn't know.</p><p>“He left you there on your own ? When ?”</p><p>“A week ago ?” Jessica made her way back to him, and he followed her movements, not with his eyes, but with his ears. God that was weird. She stopped at a respectable distance.</p><p>“D'you think he's coming back ?” He hummed, then shook his head. “Why ?” The kid's brows furrowed. Right, clear questions. “Why d'you think he's not coming back ?”</p><p>“He's dead.” Oh. Fuck. She wanted to say sorry, but if that Stick guy was the same guy that tortured kids for fun, she wasn't sure she should be sorry. What the fuck had they stepped into. What the fuck were they going to do with this kid. Shit. She cleared her throat, and before she could find anything more to say, Luke came back from the left room with a big wooden box under his arm.</p><p>“Okay, so either this is what you're protecting, or you aren't actually protecting anything. There's nothing else but clothes and a few books in there.” Danny came out of the other room with a box of what could be food in his hands. “That box's freaking fancy, man,” Luke added as he set the box on the ground. Danny had made his way to his side before Jessica started to move.</p><p>“Hey, I know those symbols, they're the alphabet of K'un Lun.” Danny crouched, and when Jessica was close enough, she noticed the food Danny was holding was a pack of gruel. The other box, the fancy one, was indeed covered in weird symbols.</p><p>“You know what they mean ?” She asked.</p><p>“I think it mentions the Iron Fist,” he said, focusing on the box. “Something about... Only meant to be opened by me ?” And then he proceeded to try and open it. And failed. “Huh, it doesn't budge.” Luke nudged his friend and tried to open it as well. Jessica could practically see the gradual strain of his muscles shifting under his hoodie as he applied more and more force.</p><p>“Dude, that box's something else,” he finally said as he gave up.</p><p>“God,” Jessica couldn't help but sigh. “Are you really that stupid ?” She was greeted with confused looks. “Christ, you really are.” She rolled her eyes. “If it's only meant for the Iron Fist to open, don't you think it opens only with the Iron Fist's unique signature move ?”</p><p>“Oh !” Danny exclaimed, then proceeded to gather his chi in his hand. She rolled her eyes again and turned to check on the kid. He hadn't moved from his spot, but he was crouching now, his right arm around his legs and his head resting on his knees. His cane silently described an arch around him, almost absently. There was a click when the box opened, so she turned back around. She bent over the lid to see inside. “Uh,” Danny said as he lifted an old yellow book. “It's an old yellow book.” Jessica sighed again, with more strength.</p><p>“What's it say ?” Luke asked, pointing at the Chinese looking symbols on the cover.</p><p>“The book of the Iron Fist.”</p><p>“Helpful,” Jessica sassed. He proceeded to open the book and absorbed himself in it. Luke got up, crossed his arms and set his attention on the kid.</p><p>“What do we do with the little ninja ?” Jessica considered the boy, still in the last position she saw him in.</p><p>“Apparently, his mentor's dead,” she said before making her way to him. He had his eyes closed and from up close, she could hear him humming. “Hey, kid, you got any family ?” She was pretty sure she already knew the answer, but she still had to ask, right ? Sure enough, the kid shook his head. “Anyone who could take you in ?” This time he frowned. Jessica breathed in deeply, not about to get her frustration out on the kid. “Is there someone who could give you shelter ?” Another frown. “I mean, you can't stay here on your own, right ?” A shrug. “What are you going to do when we leave ?” A pause. The kid got up.</p><p>“Give my life to protect the Iron Fist,” he said. “Follow him into war.” All Jessica could do was grumble, really.</p><p>“Danny ?” Luke called out. “I think you got yourself an adopted kid.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He'd heard so many stories about the Iron Fist, he'd kind of imagined him to be... more, honestly. It had been really easy to beat him. Too easy. Maybe the Chaste was less about fighting alongside the Iron Fist, and more about protecting him. To His senses, this Danny was a noisy, smelly and clumsy <em>baby</em>. Even the big man, with apparently no training whatsoever was more discreet. When he wasn't shouting. And on top of that, the Iron Fist was stupid. Couldn't understand a simple answer without the help of his two followers. Would His existence really be resumed to baby-sitting this poor excuse of a leader ?</p><p>Well, no matter what He thought about this man, it was his sacred duty to follow him. Now that the last mission given to him by Sensei was over, this was the only thing left to do.</p><p>“Hey, guys, I think this book is some kind of personal journal written by all the Iron Fists before me, it's incredible ! And the pages of the book itself, I think it's... Wait, what ?”</p><p>“I said-”</p><p>He made his way to his space while the three of them talked among themselves. As He walked past each of them, their weights shifted, steps dragging onto the cement floor, no doubt following his every move as they'd been doing since their intrusion.</p><p>“No, I know what you said, I just- What ?”</p><p>“Well, we can't leave the kid on his own, and he wants to follow you into war, so I guess it makes him your protégé or somethin'.”</p><p>He kneeled in the middle of his room, his duffel on the floor in front of him, his cane by his left side. He already knew everything was in its right place, but he still liked to check. He trailed along the coarse fabric of the bag, opened the old zipper carefully to not derail it, shifting the pull tab's direction minutely each time it caught on the crooked teeth.</p><p>First He checked inside his battered Bible. The small photograph was safely tucked inside; He felt the creases on it before closing back the leather book. He absently checked each of the beads on his rosary, their individual indentations and cracks, then wrapped it back around the cover just to hear the wood sliding against leather. Stick didn't like that He still felt the need to keep those, but the smell that lingered on the objects and the physical act of- he thinks it was called praying, reminded him of something He couldn't remember. It always calmed him down when He truly needed it, so Stick let him keep them.</p><p>“I'm not- I can't- I'm twenty-five, I can't take care of a <em>kid !”</em></p><p>“Wow, I think that's the most sensible thing I've ever heard you say, dude. I'm kind of amazed.”</p><p>“Ah hah, you're very funny, Jess.”</p><p>'The Constitution' sat between his two pairs of pants. Stick always said it was a waste of his time to keep that book, as they were bound by no laws of men. He just liked the soothing repetitions and long convoluted sentences. 'The art of war' was tucked under his shirts. This was the only book Stick had ever given him. Most days he cherished it, sometimes he felt like he wanted to turn it into small bits and then incinerate the remains.</p><p>“Don't worry kiddo, we won't let you deal with it on your own, who d'you take us for ? Right, Jess ?”</p><p>“Ugh, I guess. But I'm warning you, I'm not giving him the talk, and I certainly won't lecture him on drugs and alcohol.”</p><p>The only thing left to do was cram the carton of food inside his bag. It was kept in the other room, the one Stick used. He went there and reached for the shelf. Nothing. Right, he'd heard the cereals shifting in their box when the Iron Fist had looked around. His smell, incense and green tea, still lingered where he'd snatched the pack. He went by his side.</p><p>“Wha- What ? The talk ?” The Iron Fist was confused. It seemed to be his general state of being.</p><p>“May I take back the food ?” He asked the Iron Fist, who jumped out of his skin.</p><p>“His Mother's-” He cursed in Mandarin then, in English, “How are you so silent ?” Good training, mostly, but He didn't answer; He was pretty sure this was a rhetorical question. He simply extended his free hand expectantly.</p><p>“May I take back the food ?” He repeated, because maybe his new boss needed it.</p><p>“Uh, yeah, sure,” The Iron Fist finally replied, handing Him the carton.</p><p>As He made his way back to his bag, he shifted the box from left to right, the trickle of each individual grain of oatmeal inside a soothing motion in his hand. It sounded like a faraway rainstorm. He ran his knuckle over the soft hoodie sitting at the top of the bag, then put the box on top of it before finally zipping the bag back up. He swung the duffel over his head then tightened the strap around his chest so it couldn't move, the thick blanket folded inside a cushion against his spine. He grabbed his cane, adjusted his hold on it to feel the familiar grain of the wood as he got up, and He was ready to go.</p><p>They were not.</p><p>“But there's only one room at the dojo, where's he gonna sleep ?”</p><p>“Dude, you're a billionaire, you can figure something out,” the woman, Jess, sighed in annoyance.</p><p>Maybe it was the way they seemed to imply He wasn't fit to take care of himself, or maybe it was the pair of footsteps he heard outside, but he shut them up with a sharp thwack of his cane. The familiar note helped Him keep the tension from building in his shoulders.</p><p>“We should go,” He said to his newly silent audience, “guards are coming,” he pointed toward the main door.</p><p>“Shit !”</p><p>“How d'you know ?”</p><p>“I hear them.” He gestured to the backdoor, the way the big man had come. “Leave that way,” He said when they didn't move right away. The Iron Fist was painfully slow to put his book away. Nothing about that book made sense to either of his senses, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. The guards were nearly there now, so He ran up to the light switch and turned it off. The buzzing stopped and left echoing emptiness behind.</p><p>“What the fuck ?” He heard from outside. A man in his fifties, heavy smoker, overweight. Not exactly a threat.</p><p>“Security !” The second guard announced loudly. Scared, in his twenties, wired on coffee, clumsy.</p><p>He debated waiting for them behind the door and knocking them out, but the sound of the backdoor opening and the harsh whispers of Jess changed his plan.</p><p>“Wait, we can't leave him here !” They were finally ready then. He sprinted to them, leaving the guards to barge in his back.</p><p>“Of course not, I'll- I'll go fetch him, I'm the most discreet,” Iron Fist hissed back.</p><p>“I'm here,” He said before the Iron Fist could turn around. He clasped his hand on his new boss' mouth to muffle his surprised yelp. “Let's go.”</p><p>He pushed them out the door, and led them through the maze of warehouses. He stilled when he heard two new guards coming up ahead and his new allies narrowly avoided bumping into him. With his cane, he forced the three of them against a wall.</p><p>“What's-” But He interrupted the big man with a shushing motion. Jess' breathing hitched as she prepared to say something, right as the two guards rounded the corner. The two went past them without any indication of noticing anything. He waited until they were truly gone to resume their escape. They finally reached the narrow alleyway at the end of which he knew the fence was torn open from rust, a family of racoons, and complete neglect. He grabbed the wire mesh and instantly regretted not putting his gloves when the grating of rusted iron dug into his skin. He focused on the death grip he had on his cane while the boss and his followers went through. He joined them out onto the street and pulled the fence back into position. He turned to them.</p><p>“Lead the way,” He bowed to the Iron Fist.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Lead the way,” the kid bowed his head to Danny, then immediately made for the nearest roof, a hand pulling his mask over his face in a swift motion.</p><p>“Hey, where the fuck are you going, kid ?” Jessica called after him. She could only see his silhouette straightening on the roof, and recognised his head tilt from there. He was listening. “Huh,” she didn't know what to say next and looked at her friends. Danny reacted before any of them could think of something though.</p><p>“Dude, no need to shadow tail me, those are peaceful times !” And he sounded like he knew what he was talking about too.</p><p>“What the fuck ?” She hissed at him. He simply shrugged.</p><p>“What, he's part of a secret army of ninjas sworn to protect me <em>in secret, </em>of course he'd be trained to shadow tail me” he hissed back like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like whatever he was talking about made sense.</p><p>“What the fuck is a shadow tail and why is it even a thing ?”</p><p>“Oh, come on, I've lived in a monastery since I was ten, and even I have seen ninja movies,” Danny said rolling his eyes. “You know, when the ninjas follow their lord from the shadows of the roofs and stuff. Shadow tailing.”</p><p>“Fuck,” she answered, because she actually- shit, she actually understood what he was talking about. Of course, during their chat, the kid was back, his head tilted in confusion, he'd already taken his mask off.</p><p>“Yeah, huh,” Danny told him, “come on, walk with us, you don't need to take to the shadows during peace times, okay ?” The boy frowned, but lowered his hood anyway.</p><p> </p><p>They walked in silence for a while, Jessica observing the kid from the corner of her eyes. Far from his earlier graceful movements, he now walked cautiously, swiping his cane from left to right. She found it suspicious because he'd proven he didn't need his cane when he'd led them out of the warehouse's site. But what did she know, maybe he wasn't used to these streets or something ? But he'd dashed to that roof in seconds, so...</p><p>“Hey, so how old are you anyway ?” She asked him, still mulling over his odd change in behavior. He didn't respond, kept walking with measured steps. Ugh, was he back to not answering her ? “Kiddo ?” She asked again, brushing his shoulder. Maybe he hadn't realised she was talking to him. He immediately flinched away from her touch, body tensing into a defensive position. “Uh, sorry, kid,” she said, raising her hands in apology. He didn't answer apart from a slight tilt of the head, and slowly dropped his guard again. “So, how old are you ?” Jessica pressed her question. After a while, he shrugged. “You have a New York accent,” she said, taking her phone out, an idea suddenly popping in her head.</p><p>She typed in the search bar 'Blind boy disappearance New York'. Before hitting enter, she looked back at the kid. He couldn't be more than fifteen. He'd said he didn't remember when he started training back when Danny had asked him, so he would have been what ? Three, four at the most. She added the preference so that only results older than ten years ago would pop up. There were a surprising amount of blind kids disappearing around those parts. A worrying amount. But one amber alert grabbed her attention; round brown eyes, a giant smile on the baby's face. Flaming red hair. “Matthew Murdock,” she read out loud.</p><p>And the kid halted, his cane stopped mid-swing. He didn't move a muscle. Luke and Danny turned around, frowning at Jessica. She was studying the boy. He shifted his hold on his cane after a long while, then his free hand slowly, slowly went to rub his hair the exact same way he'd done back at the warehouse. He huffed, crouched down and hid his face in his knees. “Shit I'm sorry, kiddo,” she whispered as he started humming. He didn't sound too distressed though, his hand rubbing his hair slowly, almost peacefully.</p><p>“Could- Could- say it again ?” He said eventually, tone hopeful, and shit, Jessica had to bite down at her lip to keep the wobble out of her voice. She crouched next to him.</p><p>“Your name's Matthew Murdock,” she whispered for him only to hear, with a warmth in her voice she never thought she had in her. She looked back at her phone to skim at the article while the boy's humming became louder. He sounded delighted. The article, though, was a fucking tragedy. She kept it for later, when they'd reached the dojo maybe. “You're fourteen,” she couldn't help but say, because fuck, the kid was only fourteen, for fuck's sake ! A rogue tear tried to escape her eye, so she inhaled forcefully to keep it at bay. She got back up, looked at Luke and Danny with her best poker face. They stared at each other, trying and failing at a silent conversation, but she refused to share the article with them. Not yet. They had to go home first. Fortunately, the streets were empty at this time of night, so they let the kid do his thing. Jessica read the article in more detail in the meanwhile, Luke and Danny looking positively confused while keeping an eye out.</p><p>Eventually, the kid got back up, slowly, shaking ever so slightly, looking unsure as to what to do now.</p><p>“Should we go home ?” Jessica suggested, and he nodded minutely. They started to walk, but after a hesitant step, he stopped and frowned.</p><p>“Mmh- I- I-...” He stammered, sweeping his cane hesitantly around him. He tilted his head right and left, his frown deepening. “Wh- Where... ?”</p><p>“What is it, buddy ?” Luke asked in a soothing voice, taking a step in his direction.</p><p>“You need help, kiddo ?” Jessica asked, an arm already between the boy and the road where he was headed. There was no traffic, but, well, reflex. He stopped, closed his eyes and lowered his head, then took a deep breath. He tapped his cane a few times on the concrete, and reoriented himself toward Danny.</p><p> </p><p>They spent the rest of the way in silence, Matthew keeping his head low and his eyes closed, frowning in deep concentration it looked like. They entered the dojo, and the kid went straight to the middle of the matted space. He tapped his cane, and looked miffed at the muffled sound. Jessica was so focused on him she hadn't heard Colleen approach from the living space. It was when Matthew turned around and tilted his head at the newcomer that she realised she was there.</p><p>“Hi Colleen,” Danny said with enthusiasm, but weirdly enough didn't go for a hug.</p><p>“Who's that kid ?” Colleen said without preamble, looking equally confused at the lack of hug.</p><p>“This is- Matthew,” Danny hesitated at the name, but relaxed when the kid only rubbed his hair with the slightest grin. “He's from the Chaste,” he added with a strange expression.</p><p>“As in, the army sworn to destroy the Hand ?” Oh, right, that chick was part of that weird Hand business.</p><p>“And follow me into war, yeah.”</p><p>“Huh,” Colleen ended up saying after opening and closing her mouth a few times. “Why's he here ?”</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Danny hesitated, a hand scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, his mentor's dead and we, huh, didn't want to leave him alone...” She opened her mouth to reply just as the boy stifled a yawn. She sighed instead.</p><p>“Where's he gonna sleep, it's not like there's a ton of room...” She said, but lost her train of thought as Matthew walked to the right end corner of the dojo, put his bag down on the floor. He kneeled and swiftly took a brown, filthy rug-looking... blanket(?) out, proceeded to turn himself into a tight burrito, and plopped down, rolling into a small ball, his back against his bag. Only his hand peeked out, wrapped around his cane.</p><p>“Well, I guess that's sorted then,” Jessica tried to keep her tone light. “Huh, I guess that's it for tonight then ?”</p><p>The burrito didn't move as the dojo emptied.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He never fully fell asleep. It was only partly due to his strict training. In truth, it had more to do with his need to keep control over his senses.</p><p> </p><p>It was easy to stay half alert when every time he came too close to completely drifting off, each strand of his blanket's polyester stabbed his skin like vicious needles, the shifting of his clothes burned like Stick's rope restraints, the bumps of his books in his bag digging in his back, and the rest was unfamiliar, where's the stench of his rotting blood on Stick's rusting tools, where's the rumble of the river and the hard concrete floor digging in his bones ?</p><p>The electricity and pressurised water buzzing all around him, breaths of hundreds of people, screaming bats flying in patterns, rats and cockroaches scurrying underneath, creaking buildings, breeze outside howling like vicious wolves, smell and taste of rotting wood, rotting food, rotting trash, rotting everything, urine, sweat, blood, fear, excitement, anger, asbestos in the walls, wi-fi, radiowaves, spinning earth beneath his feet, too much, too much, he needed to breathe, wet sound of his lungs trying to inflate, electric shocks of his heart pounding, blood traveling in his body, stomach churning, kidneys processing blood, breathe, come on, come on, come on...</p><p> </p><p>The familiar wood knot polished by years of rubbing them under his fingers. He pressed his cane against himself, focused on its weight, on its chaffing against the blanket. He tapped it on the floor and listened to the muffled thump thump thump, not quite as good as the usual sharp thwaps, but he focused on the rhythm instead. Thump thump thump, dull but calming. He hummed, the vibration of his vocal cords traveling along his bones, at the right frequency it almost drowned the subway and the radio waves and the distant shifting of tectonic plates. He reached for his hair, rubbed his scalp, focused on each strand of hair traveling across his fingers, the rest could wait because his- his father- he used to do that, didn't he ?</p><p>He rocked minutely, upsetting the dizzying rotation of the earth, canceling its spinning, regaining his balance. He buried his nose in his hoddie, focused on his own stench of sweat, anxiety, oily pores, dying skin. It's disgusting, but compared to the rest it's familiar at least.</p><p>Good. He was focused again. Deep breath... Matthew. <em>Matty</em>. Something weird from his memories. A... A shape, but not the ones he heard. There's... He didn't understand what it was, but he knew who. A face. Lights, colors, nose, eyes, eyelashes, he didn't remember the names of the colors, he didn't remember the names of the shapes. Dad.</p><p>Hot tears ran along his face. Stick would be ashamed. He focused on the trail of heat on his cheeks, the salt settling in his pores, the taste of water and chemicals. He tried to hold on to the last memory of his father's face, but he couldn't make sense of the... Image. It slipped through his memory like sand through fingers, replaced by the sound of Stick's derisive scoff rippling along his bony figure.</p><p> </p><p>The heat of the sun heated his cocoon uncomfortably. He didn't want to move, the ground was soft enough that he could bear it a little longer. He emerged to the sound of footsteps approaching, hot tea sloching in one hand, cups clinking in the other, cheap porcelain. He stiffened under his blanket, ready to attack. But the man sat cross legged in the middle of the room, far away enough that He... that Matt finally relaxed. And realised it was the Iron Fist.</p><p>Matt swiftly got up and folded his blanket, kneeling to put it back in its place, across the backside in the bag.</p><p>“Good morning,” the Iron Fist said from his spot, serving himself a cup of tea, movements slow, graceful, precise. He sounded different from last night. Less confused. Calm in fact, almost wise. “Do you want some tea ?” Green tea, with hints of dried fruits and fake vanilla from previous batches, burnt leaves, a spot of mold in the pot.</p><p>“I'd be honored,” Matt bowed before striding toward the Iron Fist, then knelt in front of him. He accepted the cup, kept it far enough that the hot steam wouldn't burn his nose while it cooled, the water particles swirling up and dissipating in the athmosphere as it met a fresh air current.</p><p>“Did you sleep well ?”</p><p>“Yes.” They drank the tea in silence. Matt waited for the Iron Fist to put his cup down before doing the same.</p><p>“Do you want to meditate with me ?”</p><p>“I'd be honored.” The Iron Fist sighed.</p><p>“I like to do it before the city wakes up completely, there's this peaceful moment between the rise of the sun and the traffic start, it feels like a truce, you know ?” Peaceful wasn't the term Matt would use.</p><p>“The bats have stopped screaming and the low hanging humidity forms a blanket that muffles the howling of the wind,” he nodded. “But that's about it in terms of peace.” The Iron Fist hung his head.</p><p>“I didn't think of it that way. You have good ears. What else do you hear ?”</p><p>“Everyone is scurrying to get ready. Waves of alarm clocks and showers and coffee machines and blenders. Breakfast food cooking, pastries and cereal and milk, bacon and eggs and sausages and bread burning, orange juice and grapefruit and apples and...” Matt squizzed his cane. Breathe, focus, he let too much in. Narrow down.</p><p>“Are you alright ?” The Iron Fist sounded concerned.</p><p>“I need to focus.” The furrowing of brows, the bending of joints, the Iron Fist getting closer.</p><p>“You have <em>really</em> good ears. And nose. It sounds like a lot to manage.”</p><p>“I need to focus. Meditating helps.” On that, they both fell silent and synched their breathing.</p><p> </p><p>Time was a fleeting concept to Matt. The time of day meant nothing to him, instead he followed his own internal clock, finely tuned to every detail in his surrounding; atmospheric changes and the sun's position were his best hints. The morning traffic jam had thinned out by the time they ended their meditation. Jessica, Luke Colleen and two others were eating breakfast in the next room over, chatting quietly. If Matt hadn't noticed them coming in, they must have kept their distances.</p><p>“That felt great, let's get a shower and then breakfast,” The Iron Fist said as he stretched.</p><p>“A shower and then breakfast,” he repeated, not sure what else to say. He didn't like showers, the running water were pins and needles on his skin and breakfast was unecessary, he'd already eaten the day before. “As you wish,” he said nonetheless.</p><p>They walked down a corridor and reached a small room saturated with mold and humidity, five separate showers and piles of towels on a wooden shelf. He could do this. He just needed to focus on the grain of his cane instead of the stabbing pain of the water. He stepped under the stream, and it could be worse. The pressure was low, the water lukewarm. The smell of limestone overwhelmed that of mold and shampoo. But the water hit the plastic floor harshly, furious torrent piercing his skull, the vibrations travelling up his nerves like molten metal. He made quick work of washing himself and breathed deeply when he finally turned the water off, focused on the droplets sliding along his cane and hitting the floor.</p><p>He stepped out of the cubicle to fetch a towel on the shelf he sensed earlier. The Iron Fist stepped out of his shower, and his heart-rate spiked in surprise and anxiety.</p><p>“Is everything alright ?” Matt asked, not sure what could have made him react that way.</p><p>“Huh, yeah yeah,” he said eventually, “you, huh, have a lot of impressive scars.” He wanted to add something, mouth ajar and face flushed, but instead turned around and scrubbed at his hair fervently. It sounded painful. Matt couldn't resolve to do anything more but lightly pat himself with his own rough towel.</p><p> </p><p>The first newcomer smelled of modern medicine, strong detergent, blood, second-hand anxiety. She smelled of hospital. The second smelled of gunpowder, strong coffee and steel. One of her arms sounded like soft metallic whirring and hydraulic pistons.</p><p>“Hi guys,” the Iron Fist waved enthusiastically.</p><p>“Hi Danny,” the first woman answered, “And you must be Matthew. My name's Claire, nice to meet you.” Her voice's soft, her heart steady. She didn't move from her spot.</p><p>“And I'm Misty Knight,” the woman with the metal arm said, wooden chair squealing against tile as she got up to greet him. “I'm a police detective.” She presented her flesh hand to him, expecting something maybe, because she kept it there for a few seconds before awkwardly shuffling back.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Luke had called Claire right as her shift ended, around seven o'clock that morning. If she didn't know him better, she would have said he sounded almost frantic. But Luke never sounded frantic. She settled for concerned.</p><p>They'd found a blind autistic ninja child soldier in an abandoned warehouse. She would have rolled her eyes if Luke hadn't sounded half as desperate. Apparently the boy looked terrible, and none of them knew how to handle him. She'd almost pointed out that she wasn't that kind of nurse, but she was actually kind of curious now. So she'd joined them at Colleen's dojo, and they'd also called Misty because of the amber alert on the boy. At least someone was looking for the kid, so that was good.</p><p> </p><p>When they entered the dojo, Danny and the boy -his name was Matthew- were meditating. They didn't approach them, let them to their meditation, but even from afar, she understood why they'd called her. Even with an oversized hoodie on and five meters away, the kid looked like death; Dirty and bony and wild.</p><p>Sitting in the dojo's kitchen, Jessica filled them in on the article she'd found the night before.</p><p>The kid's dad had pushed an old man away from an oncoming truck, but didn't get out of the way in time. The truck spilled chemicals onto Matthew, four at the time, taking his eyesight and his father's life. He ended up in the orphanage his mother officiated at, and then disappeared a few months later, never to be seen again. What the fuck kind of world did they live in.</p><p>When Danny and the kid entered the kitchen, all freshly showered, their conversation died down immediately. What did Claire notice first ? Probably the scars on Matthew's arms. She recognised blade cuts, whip strokes, burn marks, old and new, from chemicals and fire and friction. What horrors did that t-shirt hide ?</p><p>The second thing she noticed was how pale he was now that he wasn't covered in grime. The windows were dirty but big enough to let the morning sunlight up the living quarters of the old dojo. Did he ever go out in the sun ? She doubted it. A sunray hit his face and reflected bizarrely from his sightless eyes; It reminded her of her great aunt's cataract, the icy blueness of the opaque surface almost surreal. The mess of red hair surrounding his juvenile face made her think of a halo from one of those baroque angel paintings.</p><p>They'd told her he was young. It was another thing entirely to actually see it for herself. He didn't answer hers nor Misty's greetings, instead changed his stance ever so slightly when the detective approached him. Defensive.</p><p>Danny invited him to sit down at the table, he followed submissively. They both sat cross-legged on their chair, and Claire would have smirked into her coffee mug if she didn't notice how he seemed to just follow orders. She noted the way the boy didn't let go of his cane; He put it on his lap, his hand still strongly gripping it. Sometimes his eyes fluttered shut, and he didn't bother to open them again.</p><p>He didn't reach for Jessica's offered cereal, milk, bread or fruits. Danny served himself a huge bowl of cereals and then gave it to the kid absent-mindedly. He sniffed the content of the box, and a flash of disgust crossed his otherwise blank face for no more than half a second. Then he served himself.</p><p>“People have been looking for you, kiddo,” Misty said when Matthew started digging in his bowl. He looked like he was eating acid instead of cereals, and started humming, sound guttural and low pitched as he chewed down the crispy sugary stuff.</p><p>“Stone,” he stated after swallowing his food, a short nod of certainty. Then, confusion. “How do you know him ?”</p><p>“I'm sorry, I don't know any Stone. I was talking about your mother, actually. She's been looking for you for ten years.”</p><p>“I don't know who that is,” he took another spoonful of cereals, once again humming while chewing.</p><p>“She's a nun at the orphanage you disappeared from. Do you remember any of them ?” Misty kept her voice low and soft, tone practiced on dozens of young victims no doubt, her head cocked to the side and a thoughtful expression on her face while she observed the boy's mannerisms as closely as Claire did. He hesitated when reaching for a third spoonful of cereal, and that's when Danny reacted.</p><p>“Dude,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically delicate, “you don't have to force yourself to eat that if you don't like it.” He dropped the spoon almost immediately, stifling a sigh of relief.</p><p>“Stone might look for me,” he said, apparently ignoring Misty's question completely. He started rocking, and yeah, Claire could see why Luke was convinced the kid was autistic.</p><p>“Would you like to meet your mother ?” Misty insisted anyway.</p><p>“I don't know who that is,” he snapped, lowering his head and rubbing his hair a bit frantically. “Stone might look for me.”</p><p>“Who's Stone ?” Jessica asked before Misty could continue her fruitless interrogation. The kid slowed down.</p><p>“Stick's lover. He's gonna be sad.” According to Jessica, Stick was the kid's mentor that died earlier this week. Well that was terrible. “Stick says Stone is too emotional for his own good. Stone says Stick should take his bō out of his ass.” He started humming under his breath, so it was probably the end of what he had to say.</p><p>“Um, do you know where he is ?” Claire asked after an awkward silence, because apparently for all of Misty's detective training, she was as lost as the rest of them. He shrugged.</p><p>“You probably shouldn't drink that,” He told Danny when he reached for his tea.</p><p>“Oh ? Why ?”</p><p>“The water's poisoned.” Danny put the cup down on the table with a slight frown.</p><p>“Um, what do you mean ? We've drunk it this morning and we're fine.”</p><p>“The pipes are made of lead,” the kid answered, pointing toward the sink. Claire put her own coffee down, and she saw the others do the same with their own drinks.</p><p>“What- What makes you say that ?” Colleen asked, eyeing her tea like it could confess its crimes.</p><p>“I smell it. And I tasted it in this morning's tea.” He didn't look very concerned that he'd drank lead willingly. “Also there's asbestos in the walls and termites in the wood, and there's some kind of deadly fungus growing in the showers and cockroaches and rats in the floors. This place isn't really safe.” There was such nonchalance in his delivery that they didn't register right away the bomb he'd just dropped. They all looked at each other in turn, not quite sure what to do.</p><p>“How can you tell all that ?” Luke asked softly, pushing himself off the wall anyway.</p><p>“How can't you ? They're loud and they smell awful.”</p><p>“I think Matt has very good senses,” Danny clarified, getting up from his chair. “And I think maybe we should go somewhere else.”</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cross-legged on the bed, right hand running on each bead of his rosary, left one reading his bible, he was rocking. Humming too, as loud as he could. They'd taken his cane when they'd reached the hospital. The only reason he was still there was that the Iron Fist had told him- no, asked him to stay put. Claire, the one that smelled like hospital, had insisted. Apparently, he was too thin, his scars too gruesome, they needed to do a full check-up, he wouldn't have escaped it anyway, he'd been kidnapped for ten years, this was normal procedure, Misty had added.</p><p>The needle in his hand shifted painfully with each movement, but he didn't care, right now the only thing keeping him from losing his concentration was the familiar dots under his fingertips. He was careful to not press on them, they were already almost flat by years of reading them. The plastic thing on his finger scraped against his rosary, loud beeping on his right every time he tried to shift his grip. The splash of liquid, drop by drop on his right, cold chemicals sipping into his veins, his heartbeat on display beside that, and no.</p><p>He had to focus on the barely raised dots, on the rosary.</p><p>Just outside his room, Iron Fist and his friends were in the middle of a heated argument with a woman behind a desk. They weren't family, they weren't supposed to enter the room. The woman understood that they were the ones to find him, but now they had to back off. The police could handle it. The mother was on her way. Coughing people sitting along the walls. Murmurs of '<em>did you hear ? They found Battlin' Jack's kid !'</em>, '<em>I heard the nurses, apparently the boy's feral...' </em>Broken bones shifting, hisses of pain, blood, pus and rot and bleach-</p><p>Stop. Focus.</p><p>The words under his fingers had no meaning. There's too much going on. The pressure building in his skull hammering behind his eyes. He hummed louder, rocked harder, reached for his hair without bothering to untangle the rosary from his hand. But the plastic thing on his finger was still scraping, it didn't feel right, so he lowered his hand again.</p><p>Hid his nose in the flimsy hospital gown. Not his clothes, not the right smell, didn't work. He wanted to tap the plastic thing at the end of his finger, wanted to hear some kind of rhythmic thwap against the bed's metal frame, but every time he did that and the beeping machine screamed, the nurses came to stop him, told him off.</p><p>People screaming, people complaining, A woman reassuring her child <em>'Everything's gonna be fine, sweetheart.' </em>Rustling of fingers combing through hair. Heartbeats going wild, steady heartbeats, heartbeats <em>disappearing</em>. Televisions. Radios. Hundred of beeping machines. Boom boom boom, rhythmic thunder of a huge machine throbbing through his skull.</p><p>Focus !</p><p>He closed the bible, opened it again, this time to the front cover. He retrieved the piece of paper he'd tucked there, the first sentence he'd ever read, Stick's first-ever gift. '<em>I don't have time to teach you how to read. This is a pangram, there's every letter in it, learn it and you'll know how to read your damn book.'</em> He ran his fingers along the dots, not even raised anymore, so he was just feeling for the holes pinpricked in the worn paper.</p><p>'Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs.'</p><p>It hadn't taken him long to learn how to read. Stick had almost sounded impressed. He read the sentence over and over, drowning the rest of the world.</p><p>Warm skin against his arm, and he jumped into action. He'd let himself be snuck on. Stupid. He gripped the offending hand tight, twisted it, brought the attacker to the floor, his free arm on their neck.</p><p>“Security !” The shrill voice under him screamed. Fear prickling out of her. Heavy steps rushing into the room. Three men, unarmed, none of them trained to fight, only their size for themselves, this was going to be easy. He didn't move right away, let them approach.</p><p>And then he jumped. Knocked the first one out cold, swept the second off his feet, didn't wait for the <em>thud</em> as he fell, and had the third into a chokehold before he could take a step back. He stank of fear too. Just like the woman, who was trying to get off the floor. He felt the man under his grip falter, the lack of oxygen making him loosen his grip on Matt's arms. He held him as he fell on his knees. Terror choking the air.</p><p>“Matthew, let him go !” The Iron Fist cried out. Matt obeyed promptly, stepped back. The man fell heavily on the floor, fetal position, gasping for air. The woman was long gone, her tears and sobs somewhere outside the room, muffled against a sympathetic shoulder shushing her. More and more people flooding into the room. “Dude, what the fuck ?” The Iron Fist wanted an answer. He sounded angry. Yes, of course.</p><p>“I apologise, Iron Fist, I let them sneak up on me,” Matt said, bowing down to the ground. Jumping heartbeats, surprise, confusion, tense frustration.</p><p>“What ? No, that's not-” Iron Fist stammered, approaching cautiously. He stopped in front of Matt, knelt to his level. “Come on buddy, sit up, and- and call me Danny, please ?” He obeyed. Iron- no, Danny sounded concerned now. “Dude, you can't attack the hospital people like that.”</p><p>“I- I didn't-” He tried to explain, but words never came easily to him. “They snuck up-” Come on, how hard could it be, a few more words, he just needed to put them in order. But his focus was shot. Fear, blood, alcohol, heartbeats disappearing, rot, bleach, beeping machines, crying, screaming.</p><p>The good thing now that he was out of bed, was that he wasn't attached to the needle or the plastic thing. He rubbed his hair, the rosary's smooth beads against his scalp, his hair through his fingers. His muscles tensing as he rocked, back and forth, back and forth, the humming vibrating in his throat and along his bones. Nothing else mattered.</p><p>“We'll have to sedate him, he's dangerous.” A new voice. Anger filled the room. Danny's. Jessica's.</p><p>“For fuck's sake, the kid's blind and autistic, and your nurse just touched him without warning, how much of an asshole can you be ?”</p><p>“Miss Jones, he nearly dislocated my nurse's shoulder and injured three of my security.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, next time warn him before touching him,” Danny spat with as much venom as Jessica.</p><p> </p><p>Danny led him back to the bed without touching him, warned him when a nurse put the needle back, in his arm this time, and another put the plastic thing back on his finger.</p><p>Danny and his friends argued outside the room. The nurse that snuck up said it was her fault, she should have warned him.</p><p>“I'm doctor Johnson,” the man that wanted to sedate him said when they reached some kind of agreement. “I'm going to examine you.” Tense apprehension in his voice. “Mister Rand tells me you have a lot of scars. I'm going to need you to take off your top so I can check them.” Matt obeyed. Danny told him it was okay to obey him. Surprised gasps filled the room. One of the nurses sobbed. The doctor tensed even more. “Can you tell me about those scars ?” The question didn't make sense. What was he supposed to say about the scars ? He shrugged, it was easier than speaking.</p><p>“Hum, do you think you could stop rocking so I can inspect them better ?” I took him a few attempts, but he finally he managed to stutter to a stop. He focused harder on his humming, squizzed his eyes shut to feel the pressure of his tensed muscles. “I'm... Going to touch your back now.” The man's voice felt far away. The warm gloved hand made his skin crawl, goosebumps and shudders wracking his body. He stayed very still. “I've never seen such severe scars before. Most of those cuts are scar tissue upon scar tissue, like whoever did this waited until it was healed to open them again.”</p><p>That sounded about right. The hands pressed harder against his body, moving slowly, probing. “See those bumps under the skin ? Every rib feels broken and healed wrong. We'll have to do an X-ray, but it looks like most of the bones are in the same state. What- What did you say happened to him again ?”</p><p>“Overzealous martial arts cult master,” Jessica offered.</p><p>“That's- It feels like an understatement.” The hands left his back. He started rocking again. The tension was back in the doctor's voice when he spoke again. “Matthew ? There's something else mister Rand told me about.” It was Danny's turn to tense up now. “He thinks that maybe your genitals look mutilated...” His sentence trailed off, tension and unease choking up the air in the room. “If you're okay with it, I'll need to do a check-up. If you're not comfortable with me, I can-” His voice trailed off again as Matt shrugged and took off the rest of the hospital gown. The doctor's heart jumped “Huh, do you want the others to leave first ?” Flushed faces, clearing of throats, shuffling of feet. What was up with them ?</p><p>“Why ?” A long pause.</p><p>“Nevermind, I'll just have a look-” Again with his sentence trailing off and the jumping heartbeat. He didn't touch this time, just loomed over Matt. “That's- Can you tell me what happened to your genitals ?”</p><p>“It hurt,” he answered with a shrug. “Stick said it was puberty. He said it would never stop unless I cut everything off. So I did.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>mention of animal death</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Jesus fucking christ...” Jessica sighed. She'd seen her fair share of fucked up, but this was another category all together. The whole room held its breath.</p><p>“How did- It must have hurt like hell.” The kid fucking shrugged. “Hum. I have to ask you a few questions okay ?” No answers. “Can you still go to the toilets normally ?” A nod. “Does it hurt when you go ?” A shake. The doctor rubbed his face with a sigh. “Okay, you can dress up. We'll wait for the blood results, but I can already tell you're malnourished, Matthew.” No shit, anyone could tell that. The kid looked like a scarecrow. It wasn't even just that they could see his entire fucked up skeleton; They could see the kid's muscles roll under his skin with each of his movements. “Can you tell me what you eat and how much ?”</p><p>“Gruel once a day,” he said as he finished to dress back up. “Sometimes we catch cats.”</p><p>Before anyone could gather themselves enough to say anything to that, a disheveled nun appeared at the door.</p><p>“Matthew,” she said, relief in her voice and tears in her eyes. Jessica side-stepped to let her in. Behind her, Misty and another detective stayed out of the room. The kid barely acknowledged the nun's arrival.</p><p>“Rats and pigeons are trickier because they're poisoned most of the time.”</p><p>“Hey, Matt ?” Danny said carefully, “I think your mom just arrived.” His head barely tilted toward the woman, who'd stopped one step into the room.</p><p>“Cockroaches are the worst. They're gritty and gooey and they keep moving in my throat. Stick says I'm fussy.”</p><p>“Jesus...” Jessica couldn't help but say again. They all looked at each other in tense silence, waiting for anymore. But Matt's resumed humming signaled he was done talking. Thank fuck. The nun looked about as confused as could be.</p><p>“Okay, Matthew,” the doctor said after another pause, “we're going to give you and your mother some space. Everybody out please.” He gestured toward the exit in case they didn't understand what he just said. The kid raised a hand toward his hair, but lowered it again with an annoyed expression when the pulse oximeter knocked on his rosary.</p><p>“You sure that's a good idea, doctor ?” One of the security guys asked.</p><p>“Your guy's right, I think Danny should stay with them,” Jessica added to that.</p><p>“You're not family, you shouldn't be here in the first place.” That guy was either stupid or he had the worst short term memory of all times.</p><p>“The kid doesn't even know the woman, no offense lady,” she argued. The nun didn't take her eyes away from her son. She hadn't stepped forward either. She didn't seem to mind what Jessica just said.</p><p>“Listen, I can see you all care very much for the boy, but we need to give them some calm and privacy right now, okay ?” Jessica wasn't really convinced, but well, she knew the boy for all of eight hours. On the one hand, it was true that she should probably take a step back and be reasonable. On the other hand, the kid looked more and more agitated, and she really didn't like that. There was something wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on it.</p><p>Okay, maybe she should step back, all these protective instincts were weirding her out.</p><p> </p><p>“I don't understand why Colleen got so upset, man,” Danny said when he hung up.</p><p>They were waiting outside the room, sitting on old plastic chairs. Misty was debriefing her partner a little way away. The three security guys were chatting with the nurses at the desk.</p><p>“Dude, this dojo is her treasure,” Luke explained calmly. “You just suggested to destroy it.”</p><p>“Yeah, to build it back up brand new ! If everything Matt said is true, isn't it quicker that way ?”</p><p>“Actually,” Jessica intervened, “they have to remove the asbestos before destroying anything anyway.” Danny's shoulders slumped. “And that's going to take months already.”</p><p>A loud crash and a shaken cry from the room got them all on their feet in an instant. Danny was in the room before the security guys could react. Jessica stepped in after them.</p><p>The nun was fine, although she had her hands covering her mouth and wide terrified eyes. The heart rate monitor though, was flatlining on the ground. And Matt was furiously pacing the length of the far wall, hitting the sides of his head viciously, mumbling anxiously under his breath. Danny and the security guys were already trying to calm him down, so Jessica turned to the nun.</p><p>“What the fu- What happened ?” Two nurses entered the room. Misty and her partner stayed right outside the door.</p><p>“He wouldn't- I just wanted to hug him !” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. And listen, Jessica wasn't heartless. But there was something about that woman.</p><p>“Didn't we tell you not to do that ?” She said with a bit more aggression than strictly necessary.</p><p>“But I warned him ! He wouldn't react to anything !”</p><p>“Don't you work in an orphanage ? How can you be so clueless ? Even I know that's a no-no and I have taken care of exactly zero kid.” Meanwhile, Danny was getting nowhere calming the boy.</p><p>“Dude, how about sitting down ?”</p><p>“Could you be even less helpful ?” Jessica sneered, making her way to the blaring heart monitor and turning it off. “How about y'all get back a bit.” Danny obeyed, but the security guys didn't seem to get it. They stood tense between Matt and the nurses, like they could actually do something against him if he decided to get violent. “What's he mumbling ?”</p><p>“That he needs to focus. He said the same thing this morning, when he told me about everything he could hear around us.” Again with the feeling that something was wrong.</p><p>“Where's his cane anyway ?” Misty asked quietly, and shit, that's what was wrong !</p><p>“Yeah, where<em> is </em>his cane ?” The kid had been glued to it, even slept with it, even Jessica could tell it was important to him.</p><p>“He was hitting himself with it when we came in,” Danny grumbled. “Some nurse took it away.”</p><p>“It's illegal !” Matt yelled suddenly, making everyone jump. His temples were red from the banging, but right now no one could do anything about it. He paced faster. “It's illegal,” he repeated. “It's illegal...”</p><p>“What's illegal, buddy ?” Luke asked from right next to Misty, his voice low and soothing.</p><p>“They can't take it away, I didn't say they could, it's illegal,” he stopped hitting himself with his right hand, instead rubbed his hair. It was still a bit too frantic, but some of Jessica's tension leeched away. “It's a violation of my rights, it's illegal !”</p><p>“How about they give it back to you ?” At that, he stopped hitting his head.</p><p>“Yes,” he approved.</p><p>“We certainly won't,” said the doctor at the same time, “he's dangerous and agitated-”</p><p>“Fucking hell,” Jessica groaned.</p><p>“Well, he won't be anymore, if you give it back to him,” Luke tried to reason, a dangerous note in his voice he rarely used.</p><p>“Yeah, 'cause he needs it to calm down, you fucker,” Jessica added.</p><p>“Alright, I won't let myself be insulted by you lot, security, escort her out of the premises.” Two of the guards tried to make her budge. Keyword being tried. She crossed her arms and looked at the big guys with a questioning look while they struggled against her unmoving form.</p><p>“You know what ?” She said to the doctor, currently freaking out at the sight, “Give him back his cane, and I'll let myself out.”</p><p>“Aren't you guys police officers ?” He addressed Misty, “How about you do your job and take her away ?”</p><p>“You... You want us to arrest her for an insult ? I'm afraid I'm with her on that one, the kids needs the cane.”</p><p>“Yeah, plus, you don't need to worry,” Danny said enthusiastically, “he wiped the floor with the three of us, but he never used the cane to do it.”</p><p>“Not helping,” Jessica hissed.</p><p> </p><p>So, they finally gave the kid his cane back, and of course he immediately settled down. Danny had to take him back to the bed when he tried to sit down on the floor. Jessica made good on her promise and left after making sure the others stayed to keep an eye on the doctor and the mother. She seemed a bit too laid back for someone who'd just found her child after ten years. Sure, it could be shock, but there was something else, like she was already ready to leave.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had a terrible/terrific idea, and I hope it'll be worth it :o</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He didn't want to be here anymore. He wanted to go back to the warehouse. It smelled terrible but at least he could tune it out and then it was relatively peaceful. He really wanted to leave, and if it wasn't for Danny, Immortal Iron Fist, he would be gone already. They said it wouldn't take much longer, they were just waiting for the blood results. He didn't care. What was he doing here ?</p><p>They all asked questions, they all probed him, they all watched his every move. And he tried to focus, he really did, wringing his cane in his hands to the point of pain, rocking until he was dizzy, humming his throat raw.</p><p>And the woman kept crying in the chair next to the bed, she kept trying to reach for him so he couldn't let his guard down. Danny said he had to let the doctors and nurses do their job, but she was neither, so he didn't have to let her touch him.</p><p> </p><p>She said things, but he was tired of listening to people, and she wasn't a nurse or a doctor, so he didn't have to cooperate. He hummed louder to drown her words, and focused his attention on his bible; Now that he had his cane, he could actually concentrate enough to read it. He read half a page before something she said caught his attention.</p><p>“You kept the rosary all those years. I remember giving it to your dad before I- You were glued to it when you came to us.” What did she mean she gave it to his dad ? Who was she anyway ? Danny and the doctor said she was his mother. But it didn't mean anything to him. She didn't mean anything to him. Not even a vague memory, not a spark of whatever had made him cry the previous night. Not a soothing hand in his hair, not a gentle word.</p><p>“I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you Matthew,” she sobbed, and then she tried to reach him again. He jerked back and curled tighter on himself; he was tired of being touched, and he certainly didn't want her to touch him. The woman sobbed harder before she got up, her sniffling muffled by soft tissue.</p><p>“I'm sorry I couldn't be a mother to you, Matthew. And I'm- I'm sorry but- I can't be a mother to you now...”</p><p>And she left, hurried footsteps escaping down the corridor. Misty asked her what was wrong, but she didn't answer. The detective followed her, asked her where she was going, but she didn't answer. Her crying dried up before she'd reached the elevator. He didn't care to follow her further.</p><p> </p><p>A nurse came in to ask if everything was okay. Everything was horrible; The sheets and gown grated his nerves raw, the strong smells of antiseptic and blood and detergent made him want to hurl the disgusting cereals he could hear churning in his stomach. He had to fight flinching every time the loud machines somewhere on the floors bellow boom boom boomed into his skull.</p><p>“I want to go.” He knew that's not what she asked, and he knew he couldn't go.</p><p>“The test results shouldn't be long now,” She answered softly. “The detectives might want to ask you a few questions in the meantime.”</p><p>“I want to go.”</p><p>“Sorry, darling. You'll have to wait a little longer. It's nearly noon, I'll bring you something to eat.” He didn't want to eat. He wanted to go. But Danny said to obey the doctors and nurses. She left without an answer.</p><p>Outside the room, Misty was back, anger in her steps and voice.</p><p>“That damn woman, she waits ten years for her kid and the second he reappears she gives him up.”</p><p>“What ? What d'you mean she gives him up ?” Danny exclaimed.</p><p>“She said the orphanage can't take care of his needs and asked me to contact social services to place him.”</p><p>“I'll take him in,” Danny declares.</p><p>“That's not how it works, monk boy,” Misty sighed, shuffling suggesting she crossed her arms. “There are official procedures to follow.”</p><p>“Then I'll follow them, whatever.” Another sigh from the detective.</p><p>“I'm sorry kid,” She stepped away, her fingers tapping away on one of those electronic things. “Hello, yes, I'll need a social worker down at...”</p><p>He stopped listening because the nurse was back with a tray of what smelled like food-laced chemicals. He didn't follow what she told him, didn't eat the green beans and veal in sauce.</p><p>Jessica's angry, muffled voice came from somewhere in the corridor, with no heartbeat or breathing attached. It took Matt a second to understand her voice came from Danny's electronic thing.</p><p>“What d'you mean she fucking gave him up ?”</p><p>The doctors came back with the results of their tests. They didn't tell him the results, and he didn't particularly care.</p><p>“I know right ? He has to go into foster care or whatever. I told them I'd do it, but apparently there are procedures,” Danny scoffed.</p><p>The doctors added a plastic pouch of liquid chemicals that made him shiver when it flowed through the needle in his arm.</p><p>“Wait, foster care ?” She asked with interest. “Dude- I think they received their license the other day-”</p><p>Then a new woman showed up, accompanied by Misty and the other detective. The doctors told them Matt could probably leave the hospital in the afternoon.</p><p>“Hello Matthew, my name's Devon Shelby and I'm a social worker,” the new woman said, whatever it meant. Her voice was trained to sound soft, but the rest of her was tense. She smelled of paper, sugar, stale coffee and stress. “I'm here because your mother felt she needed help to take care of you.” That woman was very bad at lying. The detectives thought that too. Devon Shelby hesitated for a beat, turned toward Misty then the other cop. “Is he- Does he understand...” Her sentence trailed off, and maybe the others understood whatever she didn't say.</p><p>“How about you ask him directly,” Misty answered dryly. Devon Shelby cleared her throat.</p><p>“Right. Matthew ? I need to know that you understand why I'm here and not your mother.”</p><p>“She said the orphanage can't take care of his needs and asked me to contact social services to place him,” he repeated dully, because he couldn't be bothered to think of an original sentence right now. There was a pause.</p><p>“Huh, ain't that what you said to Mr Rand earlier,” the nameless detective said. “But we were out in the corridor...”</p><p>“Yeah, he's got good ears I guess,” Misty answered. “ And I guess he understands, huh ?” She asked with venom in her voice. Devon Shelby huffed, her face heating up and her hands busying on a large electronic thing.</p><p>“Right... I'll, I'll go and look for a suitable home.” She cleared her throat again, leaving the room hastily.</p><p>Matt was about to focus back on his reading, when Danny's enthusiastic voice caught his attention.</p><p>“Miss ! Huh, I'm Danny Rand, and this is Luke Cage, we're the ones who found Matt last night-”</p><p>“Mister Rand,” she interrupted, irritation still in her tone, “I'm not with the police, my job is to find a home for the boy, you'll have to talk with the detectives-”</p><p>“No, no, listen,” Danny interrupted her back, “We know someone who can take him in !”</p><p>“It's not that easy, sir; Matthew is a child with special needs. Just because they're your friends doesn't mean they have the right qualifications.”</p><p>“Fair enough,” Danny answered, his smile audible in his tone, “but they actually do have the right qualifications, go on, look them up on your tablet thingie.” Devon Shelby repressed a sigh.</p><p>“Alright,” she said skeptically, “give me a name then.”</p><p>“Barnes and Rogers,” Danny beamed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Really hope this is a good idea, but it jumped me in an dark alley and it wouldn't let me go</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW for brief homophobic language</p><p>Also, I have absolutely no idea how social services work, and haven't found anything useful on the interwebs.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Today the sun shone and there was the rumor of spring around the corner that seemed to put some sort of energy into the people of Brooklyn. Today was an excellent day. But then again, Steve found that every day was excellent these days.</p><p>And it had little to do with the coming spring or the sunshine; He had Bucky's hand entwined in his own, and they'd finally received their fostering license on the mail that morning. They walked leisurely down the streets of their childhood. They had all the time in the world since Steve had retired from the mantle of Captain America at the venerable age of ninety-eight, two years ago. They'd contributed their fair share to the war, he'd said, and now they enjoyed their well-deserved peace. They were greeted by mostly everyone, and they didn't mind, because they knew mostly everyone by name in these streets.</p><p>The peace wavered when the heinous tone of a few youngsters ahead drifted their way.</p><p>“-Little faggots,” was all they heard. Steve gripped Bucky's hand tighter, keeping him from lounging on the four men. They walked up to them, and Steve put his hand down on the one that had spoken. He turned around with hatred on his traits.</p><p>“Who the fu-” His voice died down when he recognised them. The guy liquefied under his gaze, his friends frozen in place in a tight circle around two young boys sitting on a bench, trying very hard not to touch each other.</p><p>“Care to repeat that to us ?” Steve asked, making no effort to sound less ominous. The guy under his grip spluttered out a few incoherent noises, while his three friends bolted.</p><p>“N- Sor- sorry, guys,” he finally stammered in a high pitched voice.</p><p>“Not us you should apologise to,” Bucky snarled. It's only when he apologised to the boys on the bench that Steve let him go.</p><p>“You guys alright ?” He asked the two kids, huddling together now that all the guys were gone. They nodded, a small smile on their face. “Stay safe, okay ?”</p><p> </p><p>They walked away tensely, holding on to each other tighter than before. How could those fuckers ruin their perfect day like that ? But then Steve's phone buzzed. It's only when he saw the caller id that his heart picked up as he stopped dead in his tracks.</p><p>“Bucky,” he breathed. “Bucky, it's social services,” he told the questioning man. He answered with a trembling finger, wedging the phone between them so they could both follow the conversation.</p><p>“Hi, I'm Devon Shelby from social services, am I talking to Mister Barnes and Mister Rogers ?” The woman's tone was weird, but Steve didn't dwell on it.</p><p>“Absolutely, yes, themselves,” he answered, trying not to sound too hysterical. She paused a second.</p><p>“Perfect. I've consulted your profile, and it is my understanding that you are ready to foster special needs children, is that correct ?” If she'd read their files, surely she knew that already, but whatever.</p><p>“Of course, yes, we've attended multiple courses.” He wanted to ask a million questions, and he could feel Bucky vibrate with the same eagerness. They held back, waited for the woman to tell them.</p><p>“Good. I have here a blind autistic fourteen years old boy in need of a home. Though I have to warn you; He was kidnapped ten years ago and found last night. Apparently, the kidnapper was a member of some kind of cult that made him into a child soldier.” Steve's insides curled tight and cold. What kind of cult ? What did that kid go through ? Would Bucky be alright ? It sounded a bit too close to home. But then again, if the kid was a child soldier, who could take care of him better than them ? “He'll need extensive and expensive physical and psychological therapy. Do you think you can take on such a responsibility ?”</p><p>“What's his name ? When do we pick him up ? From where ?” Bucky asked even before Steve could turn to him and ask his opinion, his wide toothy grin spreading warmth back into Steve's heart in a flash. Miss Shelby huffed on the other end of the line.</p><p>“His name's Matthew Murdock, and I'll bring him to you after he's cleared by the hospital, probably later this afternoon. I'll call you back to tell you the exact time.” And just like that, she hung up, even though they still had a thousand questions for her. They fell into a tight embrace, foreheads pressed together. Bucky's happy eyes were the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen. Their silly grins soon mashed into each other's.</p><p>This was an excellent day.</p><p>Their embrace was cut short by a second phone call.</p><p>“Miss Jones ?” Steve said when he answered, more for Bucky's benefit than anything.</p><p>“Yo, so you got the good news yet ?” She asked without preamble.</p><p>“How'd- How'd you know ?” Steve answered, eyebrows knitting together.</p><p>“I'm the one who found the kid with Luke and Danny.”</p><p>“Tell us everything,” Bucky pressed, and Miss Jones delivered.</p><p> </p><p>“We're gonna need weighed blankets and stim toys,” Steve said, writing everything down on his notepad, trusting Bucky to lead him as they walked down the streets. “Also noise-canceling headphones, right ? Should we buy a braille printer ? We need to label the place. Wait, hyper senses and autism, we're gonna have to soundproof the place better. And get rid of strong scents. Oh god, Bucky, all of our cleaning products are scented, it's gonna be a sensory hell for him-”</p><p>“Stevie,” Bucky's cold metal hand landed on his forearm. He smirked, voice slow and steady. “Calm down. We probably only have a couple of hours ahead of us right ? We need to prioritize.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, you're right, we can't do everything today.”</p><p> </p><p>They exited the shop, All-natural cleaning products in hands when Steve had another thought.</p><p>“We need to call Nat for her therapist's number. He's the best equipped to handle child soldiers.”</p><p>“You know she'll be at our doorstep the moment we hang up, right ?” Steve winced, but nodded.</p><p>“Right, maybe that can wait a day or two.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hi Steve, hi Buck, what can I do for you today ?” The fruit vendor greeted them with her usual nonchalance.</p><p>“The usual, Miss Burt,” Steve beamed.</p><p>“You seem chipper today, any good news ?”</p><p>“Oh, excellent news, we're gonna be dads !”</p><p> </p><p>Three hours and a phone call later, they were buzzing on their couch, the house clean and windows open, waiting anxiously for the doorbell to ring. They jumped out of their skin when it finally did. Bucky hung back, wringing his hand so tightly it probably hurt, while Steve went to open the door.</p><p>“Hello, Mister Rogers, hello Mister Barnes,” the woman in front of them said, obviously in awe to meet them, but they didn't care right about now.</p><p>“Hello, Miss Shelby,” Steve saluted with a stiff but polite smile, trying to discreetly peer over her shoulder. He mustn't have been that discreet, because she stepped to the side with a smile to reveal a scrawny little boy with flaming wild hair and head hung low, long red eyelashes shielding his eyes from Steve's view, a wooden cane held tight in his hands.</p><p>“And this is Matthew Murdock,” the woman announced.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The doctor finally gave their green light later that day. He had medicine to take, instructions to eat more and rest. On their way down the corridors, Danny explained that he would have to spend some time with two friends of his. Matt was tired of new people and new places. He just wanted to curl up somewhere quiet and rest. Jessica was waiting for them outside the hospital.</p><p>“Alright, we'll be going,” Devon Shelby ordered, her voice sharp and unfriendly. “You can say your goodbyes now if you will, I think Matthew is quite tired.”</p><p>“Right,” Jessica answered just as sharply. “We'll check on you later, kiddo,” she said to him he presumed, her voice softer than before.</p><p>“See ya later,” Luke hushed. The two of them walked away not waiting for Danny, still planted by his side.</p><p>“Okay,” Danny started, “Remember, Steve and Bucky are my friends, okay ? If you need anything from me, you tell them, and they'll call me, got it ?” Matt nodded. He still wasn't sure what was going on, but he wished he could get somewhere safe already so he could crash down. With one last wave of his hand, Danny started moving toward his friends, and Matt followed. Before he could take two steps though, a firm grip landed on his arm, sharp pain shooting through his skin making him freeze.</p><p>“No, sweetie,” Devon Shelby said, letting go of his arm before Danny turned around, no trace of her practiced softness in her voice. “You're coming with me,” She ordered.</p><p>What ? No, he had to stay with Danny. How else would he protect him ? Devon Shelby was no one to him, she wasn't an ally of Danny's, or a doctor, or a police officer.</p><p>“What's up ?” Danny asked.</p><p>“Nothing,” the woman defended, “he tried to follow you.”</p><p>“Oh, right. Hey, Matt ? You have to follow Miss Shelby, she's the one who's gonna take you to my friends', okay ?” He wanted to object, because he needed to stay with Danny.</p><p>“As you wish,” he answered, bowing down slightly. Danny hesitated for a second, before turning back around and leaving. He didn't follow. Devon Shelby grabbed him again, dragging him to a car, unaware that her grip felt like molten metal on his skin.</p><p> </p><p>By the time the car stopped in front of a large house, Matt was completely wrung out, his heartbeat pounding against the sides of his skull. No amount of humming or rocking helped him filter his surroundings, and he felt the need to find a hiding spot and curl up tight into his blanket and never move again. He barely registered Devon Shelby getting out of the vehicle, and when she grabbed his arm once again, he barely repressed the urge to yank his arm out of her reach. He let her pull him out of the car and drag him to the wooden porch of the house. It was almost brand new, the creaking of the green-smelling wood was faint, the cement of the foundations canceled most of the earth's vibration, telling him it was sturdy and done with a lot more care than most of the buildings around. Inside, two bodies.</p><p>Large frames, men, heartbeats too strong and fast, muscles as dense as Luke's and Jessica's. They were tense, and when Devon Shelby rang the doorbell, they jumped off of the leather couch. One of them moved like a dancer, back straight and heart speeding up with each step. The other's footsteps were off, his left side hunched like it was heavier than his right. Metal arm. Not like Misty's; Hers sounded like she could remove it like a shoe. This arm was part of the man's body. The muscles of his chest and back sounded... Off. Fake. The metal was foreign to him.</p><p>“-Matt Murdock,” Devon Shelby finished. He hadn't even noticed the door opening. He tried to focus on the pain in his hands, holding his cane too tight, but he failed, and instead his attention was dragged to the traffic around the streets, engines roaring, tires screeching, horns honking. Devon Shelby grabbed his arm again, and as he was dragged into the house, couldn't repress a whimper at the searing pain shooting up his arm and straight into his skull.</p><p>“Hey, I think you're hurting him, lady,” the one with the metal arm growled when she didn't let go of him.</p><p>“I'm not, he's humming to self sooth,” she answered, the fake softness back in her voice.</p><p>“That definitely sounded like a pained noise,” the taller man said with authority, making Devon Shelby let go of him. Or maybe they'd reached their destination. He immediately cradled the spot she'd been holding, his attention once again drifting away with the onslaught of unstoppable information, his loud humming and harsh rocking not enough to keep everything away. The house smelled strongly of fake pine resin, but it smelled like something had been used on top of it, fresher scent of coconut applied very recently. The open windows let in a breeze that felt like daggers on his face.</p><p> </p><p>He pulled up his snood to cover his entire face, reducing the stabbing pain of the air currents and somewhat dampening the smells. The roar of the traffic overwhelmed him again, and not even the raw pain in his throat helped focus. His heart was racing as he crouched, pushed his throbbing forehead against his knees, and pounded at his temples, the pain keeping away some of the noise. He was vaguely aware the men were crouched near him, their heart rates freaking out. They spoke softly though, the constant flow of their voices helping him focus almost as well as his humming, and the more he pounded the more his heart calmed down.</p><p>Eventually he managed to stop pounding, and the men relaxed. Devon Shelby was walking around the house, occasionally stopping to write something on a notepad, and then resuming her inspection.</p><p>“Hey, buddy, you with us ?” murmured metal arm, his voice gruff and upset. He nodded against his knees, the friction making him wince. “Is there anything we can do to help you ?” This time he lifted his head from his knees before shaking his head minutely. “Anything <em>you</em> can do ?”</p><p>He nodded, and set his bag on the floor next to him. He moved slowly, shaking a little now that he could finally relax his muscles a bit. He knelt, carefully opened the worn-out zipper. Set the box of food on the floor next to the bag. Ran the back of his free hand on the soft hoodie folded at the top. Unwrapped the rosary from around the bible, wrapped it twice around his left hand, feeling each bead sliding on his skin.</p><p>Got his blanket out of the back of the bag, threw it over his shoulders, tucked it tightly around himself, laid down on the ground, back against his bag. Settling the pummel of his cane against his shoulder, he absently ran his fingers on the familiar knots. The brass tip at the other end of the cane rested on the hardwood floor by his knees. He curled in on himself as much as he could. He was exhausted. He wanted nothing more but to tap out, but as long as he didn't catalog every background sensory input, he knew rest was just wishful thinking. And if what Danny said was true, he'd spend some time here, so best get to it as soon as possible.</p><p>So he set to work, starting with sounds, because it was the hardest to block out. He started within the house, memorising the men's voices, heartbeats, breathing, blood flows, the way their too dense muscles contracted, the way their skeletons sounded, and it was weird. There was... Nothing wrong with the tall one. No impurities in his lungs, no creaking bones, no hot spots that indicated scars.</p><p>He would dwell on it later. Cataloguing first. He also struggled to get his attention off the metal arm, each movement of the man making a soft sound, crisp and mesmerizing.</p><p>He hadn't noticed Devon Shelby was gone. He hadn't noticed the men moving away, going about their day quietly.</p><p>He moved on to the house itself. First he catalogued what he'd sensed of it when he arrived, then moved to the sounds of whirring electronics, the three ticking clocks, the water running in the walls, the setting wooden furniture and framework.</p><p>He lost track of time as he finished up the house and started on the surrounding buildings, memorising each neighbor, their houses and gardens, mapping each anthill and mole tunnels, the tower of flats across the street and its hundreds of people in it. He moved in concentric circles through everything, and reached the next block before a voice jolted him back into the house.</p><p>“Matthew,” the tall man had said, and then, “Whoah, sorry to startle you, but you haven't moved in hours and we were starting to worry.” He tried to hum, but the sound cracked and got lost into his painful throat. “Also it's dinner time, and you sound like you need to drink something.”</p><p>“Can't,” it took everything out of him to whisper.</p><p>“Can you tell me why you can't ?” He huffed in frustration, because he was on the verge of tapping out, and he couldn't do that, or else even with his hard-earned cataloguing, he'd be overwhelmed again.</p><p>“We're really worried, buddy,” metal arm said. Why ? He'd been the one suggesting he do something to help himself. But he had to answer, right ? They wouldn't leave him alone if he didn't, and they'd asked a question, and they were Danny's allies, so he had to answer them like it was the Iron Fist that had asked.</p><p>“Have to catalog everything I sense before I can rest.” He hoped they wouldn't ask him more. He still had two blocks worth of sounds to go through. And even though there was less and less information as he moved away, there was also more and more area to cover.</p><p>Maybe he could skip out on the rest of his senses for the night, his blanket and snood blocking some of the smell and air currents and temperature pockets. Hopefully it would allow him to rest before he had to move on to those. Yeah, he'd catalog whatever filtered through his blanket, and do the rest later.</p><p>Fortunately, the men didn't push for more, and he waited a little bit, just to be sure they'd leave him alone, and resumed his cataloguing.</p><p>It was well into the night, well after the men had gone to sleep, that he finally slowed his vitals, and let himself float away in a haze of half-consciousness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he heard the kid had been kidnapped and turned into a child soldier, Bucky had had to fight against a few unpleasant memories that had threatened to turn into full-fledged flashbacks right there, in the streets. But he didn't even know the kid's name yet, had never met him, and yet, he felt a surge of overprotectiveness he'd only ever felt for Steve. The kid was theirs before he even knew his name.</p><p>So it tore him to pieces to see Matthew like that, crouched in the middle of their living room, wound tight like a coil hurting himself out of desperation. He wanted to lurch forward and hug him tightly, stop him from hitting himself so viciously. But he couldn't, he knew he couldn't; it would make everything worse. He let Steve handle the social worker, while he kept talking low and slow to the scrunched up kid; It seemed to help him. Steve and he had taken classes on just about everything they could think of, and by now they considered themselves prepared to take on just about any disability or mental and developmental disorder. Autism was no exception, so they knew Matthew was having a particularly violent meltdown.</p><p>And then the kid bundled in his rug of a blanket and didn't move for hours.</p><p>“Have to catalog everything I sense before I can rest,” he'd said with a strained voice. And Steve and himself had pretty good senses thanks to the super-soldier serum; Having to clean their house constantly to get rid of the stench of sweat, dead skin and lingering food residues wasn't all it was cracked up to be. But from what Jessica had told them, Matthew could hear termites in wood and smell apples in the next building over. What kind of hell was he living in ? Well into the night, he silently argued with Steve about going to bed.</p><p>“We can't do that, what if he finally gets up in the night, and he's all alone ?” Steve signed anxiously. Bucky caught his flying hands and lowered them slowly, letting him calm down. He let go of Steve's hands once he was sure he'd actually listen to him.</p><p>“He said he'd rest once he was finished. We need to rest too if we want to be here for him tomorrow.” Steve sighed, but nodded, resigned. When they were finally ready to go to bed at around two a.m, the kid still hadn't moved. It couldn't possibly be comfortable down there, on the hardwood floor.</p><p> </p><p>He woke up to an occupied bed, which was weird; Steve was always the first one up; He needed much less sleep than him thanks to -or because of- his better serum. He didn't think too much of it; He probably had trouble falling asleep last night. Bucky exited the bed and then the room as stealthily as he could, then padded to the living room, his eyes immediately darting toward the back of the couch; Matthew knelt there unmoving, his cane on his lap, shirtless. He'd been warned about the scars and the look of starvation. It didn't prevent the horrible knot from forming in his stomach. His feet moved over to the kid without him noticing.</p><p>He crouched half a meter away from the unmoving form, observed him silently for a while, fighting against the memories of his own torture under HYDRA. Bucky shook his head and forced the thoughts away. He was doing a lot better, and right now, this kid- Their kid was the priority.</p><p>“You only have one arm,” a soft voice stated, and Bucky's heart somersaulted in his chest as he crashed back into the present. With his eyes closed, the only indication the kid had moved was the slightest of head tilts to the right.</p><p>“Yeah, didn't put it on yet,” Bucky said as he eased himself to the floor, cross-legged; He'd let his future self regret that move. “Might not even bother putting it on today.”</p><p>“Your footsteps are strange. Are you Steve or are you Bucky.” Bucky blinked at the lack of intonation and complete change of subject, before smiling.</p><p>“I'm Bucky. And I walk funny 'cause my back's all fu- all bent out of shape.”</p><p>“Why.” Usually, talking about his arm wasn't a favorite of his, but he found that he didn't mind telling Matthew.</p><p>“Well, the first prosthetic arm I got was real heavy, and I kept it so long it changed the shape of my skeleton.” Matthew tilted his head almost imperceptibly and seemed to consider the information for exactly 0.2 seconds.</p><p>“Your chest is fake.” It was Bucky's turn to tilt his head. It took him a few seconds to interpret the statement.</p><p>“Oh right, they had to replace some of my muscles to anchor my arm.”</p><p>“I like the sound it makes.”</p><p>“My- Muscles ?” So he could hear muscles ? Well, fake muscles, which might make more noise ? But still.</p><p>“Your arm. The metal is strange. I like the sound it makes.”</p><p>“Oh. It's called vibranium. A friend of mine made it for me so it wouldn't hurt my body anymore. D'you wanna check it out ?” He asked almost mischievously. The kid froze, grabbed his cane with anxious energy, before shrugging lightly. “A'ight, I'll go fetch it,” Bucky said softly. He tried to get up with slow movements, but with the one arm, his fucked up back and no momentum, it wasn't as easy as he'd like. Damn his past self. Fortunately, Steve saved him from further struggle.</p><p>“You can stay put, Buck,” he said from the bedroom's doorframe, a cheeky grin on his face and Bucky's arm in his hand. Had he watched him struggle the whole ordeal ? He glared at him as best he could while he made his way to them, but- “Here ya go, darlin',” he said with that voice of his as he, quite literally, handed him his arm, hand first. He put it on his lap to grab it by the bicep instead, then held it out to Matthew.</p><p>“I'm holdin'-” Bucky started, wondering if the kid could tell where the arm was, but Matthew knocked a knuckle on the slick forearm before he could see him move. The roundest, bluest eyes were suddenly staring at him. He hadn't seen the kid's eyes before, he'd kept them closed since he got here. It wasn't that his eyes were blue either. Those were chemically burned eyes -the chemical burn covered most of the kid's face and body, he realised in horror-; There was no discernible pupil or iris, instead a vague round-shaped veil that happened to be ice-blue.</p><p>
  <span>The biggest, brightest smile of amazement got Bucky out of his trance, and he swore on the spot to do everything he could to protect that expression. “Wanna hold it ?” Bucky didn't think it could be possible, but the kid's smile widened, and he let go of his cane to take the arm. He held it to his ear and knocked on it with his other hand, rocking excitedly in rhythm, shivering in delight when his humming harmonized with the arm's resonance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> God, he'd known the kid for half a day, but if anything happened to him, he'd kill everyone involved and then himself. </span>
</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Ping.</em>
</p><p>Perfect soundwaves rippled- no, slid across the room, smooth, crisp.</p><p>
  <em>Ping. </em>
</p><p>His extremities prickled, heat rushing up his chest and to his cheeks. Could he even match such a perfect note ? He hummed tentatively at first, almost scared that it could never sound good anymore.</p><p>
  <em>Ping.</em>
</p><p>He fumbled a bit, seemingly never hitting the right note, but then he did, and a shiver travelled along his spine. His brain halted to a stop. Everything else muted into the background. It never happened before. It was so peaceful. Silent.</p><p>
  <em>Ping.</em>
</p><p>As the background noise faded, his attention redirected on the shapes directly around him. Behind him, the large leather wall that had protected him from the air currents at his back as he slept. But what caught his attention were the men in front of him. Usually, he could tell height, build, an approximate of the hair length of the people around him. If he focused further, he could know the general shape of their faces, but he didn't usually bother. Peoples' faces meant nothing to him; People were their heartbeat, their smell, the way they walked, the sound of scar tissues on worn muscles and bones.</p><p>
  <em>Ping.</em>
</p><p>But those crisp soundwaves, those perfect soundwaves, they painted more detail to his ears than anything he'd heard before. The men sitting in front of him, their faces echoed so perfectly to his ears and he didn't understand. The flash of a shape- a face in his mind. Something from the previous night. A memory of his dad's face.</p><p>
  <em>Ping.</em>
</p><p>He reached a tentative hand toward Bucky, sitting still, heat on his chest and face and... things framing his head. Couldn't comprehend what it was. Maybe if he touched... Bucky didn't move away, let him brush... hair. Long hair, soft and clean stopping just shy of his shoulders. That mystery solved, another got his attention. The man's face itself.</p><p>Matt knew about his face. He'd map it under his finger sometimes. But the face in front of him. It didn't make sense. He reached, just as slowly, for the lower part of it. Felt like hair, but rough, short. It covered most of Bucky's face. It didn't make sense. There was no hair on this part of Matt's face.</p><p>“<span>What is this,” he couldn't help but say. A shape </span><em>moved. </em><span>The rough hair shifted under his feather-light touch. </span></p><p>“It's a beard,” Bucky chuckled. The whole shape of his body... Moved ? Trembled ? Matt could feel it vibrate. Laughing. Too many strange shapes on the face. It was weird. It didn't make sense.</p><p>
  <span>It was too much. Too much he couldn't understand. He shoved the arm into Bucky's lap, gripped his cane to focus on its wooden patterns, thwaked the brass end on the hardwood floor, </span>
  <em>thwak thwak thwak</em>
  <span> to clear away his ears, to clear away the overwhelming perfect soundwaves and confusing shapes.</span>
</p><p>“What is it buddy ?” Concern in the other man's- Steve's voice. He'd crouched down next to Bucky.</p><p>“<span>Too much.” He focused on the familiar note of his cane's </span><em>thwak thwak</em><span>. “Too much.” </span><em>Thwak thwak</em><span>. He didn't know why, but repetitions felt good. A pattern, a rhythm that accompanied his rocking. “Too much.” </span><em>Thwak thwak</em><span>. It felt natural, soothing. Bucky and Steve waited in silence. Their gazes didn't feel like too much. </span></p><p>“Feeling better ?” Steve asked softly once Matt finally settled down. He nodded as he put his clothes back on. He'd just finished cataloguing the air currents and with that the whole area, so he didn't need to focus too much to tune out the ambient background.</p><p>“<span>How 'bout some breakfast ?” Bucky asked. Yes, he should eat. Danny said to listen to the doctors and the doctor had said to eat and take medicine and rest. He turned to his bag to take out the box of food, and fished out his wooden bowl, crammed sideways into the left extremity of the bag. He put it down on the ground, satisfying clatter of wood on wood, and closed the zipper. As he did that, he listened to Bucky's grunting as he was lifted off the floor by Steve. Matt tucked the food under his arm, reached for the bowl and got up swiftly. He was about to follow the men, when someone approached the house. He halted, focused on the man. A heavy bag rustling against stiff clothes. Smell of paper. Something in his hand. Paper also. </span></p><p>“Everything alright ?” He didn't answer, moved toward the door. The man was too close, reached for the door, squeaking of metal, fluttering of paper. Matt was tense, ready to attack, defend Danny's allies. The man was gone before the paper hit the floor.</p><p>“Huh, looks like we got mail.” The two men didn't seem concerned by the paper, or where it had come from. Was it a regular occurrence ? Should he catalog that person as background ? Steve and Bucky seemed more than able to fight, and were Danny's allies. But should he trust their competency, or even their loyalty to the Iron Fist ?</p><p>“You are soldiers,” he said. He would know if they lied to him; In their heartbeat, their smell, their body language.</p><p>“Huh- Yeah ?” Bucky asked uncertainly. Was he not sure ? No, confused.</p><p>“Will you join the war against the hand alongside Danny when the time comes ?” They tensed, their heartbeats fluttered, and he'd smelled that reaction before; At the hospital, when he'd stripped off the hospital gown, and now that he was less overwhelmed, he could tell they'd had the same reaction the day before, when he was trying to focus.</p><p>“Well, no,” Steve said, his voice trying to sound smooth. The strain was obvious to Matt though. He wasn't lying.</p><p>“Why.” If they weren't willing to fight for Danny, they weren't his allies. He shifted slightly, readied himself for a confrontation.</p><p>“Well, for one we're retired. And our mi-” Steve cut himself, his and Bucky's hearts skipped a beat. “Our focus is taking care of you now,” he finished.</p><p>“You're young. You're soldiers. You should be fighting.”</p><p>“Buddy, we're officially centennials, we're not young,” Bucky chuckled, but the rest of him was still tense. That didn't make sense. They didn't smell of decaying cells, they smelled young. Yes, Bucky's body was damaged, maybe just as much as his own, maybe even Stick's. But- What was Steve ? Even the newborns he'd come across hadn't sounded as... Perfect. He couldn't be a soldier, couldn't possibly have trained hard enough to be efficient in combat. Nothing sounded off, no scars, no hard tissue from any injury, no bone fractures.</p><p>But Bucky didn't lie. There was no deception from him. Matt couldn't help but frown.</p><p>“Stick says he's almost a hundred.” <em>He still fights</em>, he wanted to add. But that wasn't true anymore.</p><p>“Oh ? Well, we don't want to fight anymore. And you don't have to fight either, you're too youn-”</p><p>“NO !" How could they say that ? "You're supposed to be Danny's allies !” Danny said he trusted them ! “You're traitors !” He needed to leave. But Danny had told him he had to stay. But surely, if they were traitors, he could leave right ?</p><p>“Matthew, we <em>are</em> Danny's friends, absolutely,” Bucky said. He wasn't lying. He wasn't lying, but they wouldn't fight for Danny. He didn't know what to do. No, that wasn't true. If they really were Danny's friends, there was something he could do.</p><p>“I want to call Danny.”</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Matthew was in good hands. Who better than Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes to keep someone safe, after all ? But Danny couldn't shake the feeling that the kid was his responsibility somehow; He'd been raised to obey him blindly, after all.</p><p>He'd heard some stories about the chaste. He'd even met Master Izo, an old blind drunk who loved to gamble and spend his nights in shady places. Despite all that, however, Danny had had no doubt the old man wasn't to be messed with. Legends told he was immortal, and was one of the original founders of the Hand, and then the Chaste. Talk about multi-tasking.</p><p>If it was up to Danny, he'd be with the kid right now. Damn those occidental laws, wasn't he the freaking Iron Fist ? But he couldn't; Apparently, even if he didn't see the problem himself, his friends had spent a good part of the day explaining why he couldn't encourage Matthew's need to follow him.</p><p>'Child soldier', they'd told him. From what he'd understood, he qualified for the term himself. What was the problem with it again ? They couldn't make their own mind on whether to follow the beliefs they'd been forced to, well, believe. Danny had argued; But he was the Iron Fist, he was the sworn protector of K'un L'un, he was the enemy of the hand. So what ? They'd forced him to train, they'd 'tortured' him and 'brainwashed' him. Pff, right, of course they'd trained him, how else would he have become the Iron Fist ? How else but through training and pain was he supposed to become stronger ?</p><p>And why didn't they want Matthew to accomplish his sacred duty, why didn't they want him to continue his work and training as the last member of the Chaste ? 'Because he's just a kid', 'because he's been forced', 'because have you seen the state of him ?', 'because Christ, Danny, he deserves a normal life !' Sure the guy had impressive scars. It's not like Danny's weren't less impressive.</p><p>And what was a normal life supposed to look like, anyway ? Go to school, find a job, slave away for this ridiculous occidental world view, as if sitting behind a glass desk and do whatever an office worker did all day, count meaningless numbers on his computer screen for money they didn't need if they just took their noses out of their screens for a second ?</p><p>The Chaste was a force for good, an enforcer of the peace, the enemy of the world's worst enemy. Didn't that count for nothing ? Was Matthew supposed to give all that up, give away the training of a lifetime and what, go to school ? And for that matter, why should Danny keep being the Iron Fist ? Shouldn't he do the same, ignore his sacred duty and count money for the rest of his life ? 'You're not a kid anymore, we can't tell you to give up your beliefs, but Matt's still a kid, we should give him a chance to choose another path'. Oh, so just because he hadn't crossed an imaginary line, just because he wasn't eighteen, Matt couldn't possibly know, couldn't possibly choose what was best for him ?</p><p>“Listen, Danny,” Claire had asked, “I'm so very sorry you had your childhood stolen from you, I'm sorry you had to go through all this. If you had to train kids, would you hurt them ? Would you torture them to teach them how to fight ?”</p><p>“How else are you supposed to learn how to fight ? How else are you supposed to learn how to withstand pain ?” A concerto of 'Oh God's' and pinched noses had traveled the room. And then Colleen intervened.</p><p>“Would you force them to follow you into war ? What if they didn't want it, would you beat them into submission ?”</p><p>“… Well. No... But I wasn't forced. Matthew isn't forced either, it's our sacred duty !”</p><p>“If he'd been the from the Hand like I was, would you have said the same thing ? Would it have been his sacred duty, or would he have been on the wrong path ?”</p><p>“It's not the same ! The Hand makes immortal slave puppets, it's not the same !”</p><p>“Oh, really, so you weren't forced ?” Jessica added. “You had a choice ? Did they ask you if you were okay with it ? Could you have said no to the training, and, I don't know, become a farmer or whatever else you had in K'un L'un ?”</p><p>“I- I don't know, I didn't ask, I was destined to be the Iron Fist, it's not like I could refuse my destiny !”</p><p>“So. In other words...” Luke said, “You were forced to be the Iron Fist ?”</p><p>“Ugh ! It's not- It's not the same thing !”</p><p>It wasn't, was it ?</p><p> </p><p>And so, here he was, ignoring his friends, trying not to run to Matt's side, trying to focus on the Book of the Iron Fist. It seemed like the biographies of the sixty-six previous Iron Fists before him. Well, not really biographies, more like a compilation of techniques they each developed. He would be so damn excited to learn all those new fighting techniques, if he wasn't so distracted by his friends' words. And if he hadn't noticed a tiny little detail from all those Iron Fists before him. Not a single one of them lived beyond the age of thirty-three. What was up with that ? They all started their testament with their predecessor's date of death, and followed by their own date of birth. It was like clockwork. Like a countdown that invariably reached its end at thirty-three.</p><p>Was he destined to end the same way ?</p><p>Would his life end in eight years, no matter what he did, no matter how he chose to spend the rest of his life ? Was that the burden of his power ?</p><p>If he'd known, would he have trained so hard to be worthy of challenging the sacred dragon ?</p><p>Of course he would have. It was his destiny, after all.</p><p>Right ?</p><p> </p><p>“-Danny !” He leaped out of his own skin and swiveled around to scowl at Colleen. “Dude, your phone's been ringing non-stop for like twenty minutes ! Do you plan to answer it one day ?”</p><p>“Yeah... Yeah, I... Sorry, I was reading, I didn't hear it.”</p><p>“Yeah, I can tell, I've called your name like five times. I thought you were meditating for a second there.” He gave a small smile and reached for the phone without a word. “Hey, you look like shit, what's up ?” He could tell her right there what he'd just found, but it wasn't fair to her. It wasn't fair, because it was his own burden to bear. So he shrugged, forced a bigger smile on his lips.</p><p>“It's all good.” He saw on her face that she wasn't fooled, but she didn't press an answer out of him, just gave him his phone. It was Steve Rogers's number. Shit.</p><p>“Yeah ?” He answered.</p><p>“Fucking finally !” Barnes' voice barked immediately, “Matthew's gone !”</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He didn't know how, but they'd lied to him. They'd said they were calling Danny. But Danny would have answered, he'd told him as much. So he didn't know how they'd kept their heartbeats from lying to him, but they'd done it. They didn't sound exactly normal, so maybe they could hide their lies. It didn't matter, they were traitors either way, unwilling to fight for Danny. Matt would find Danny on his own, he didn't need things like phones to find people. He just needed to find the trail of his scent, just needed to go back to the hospital, the last place he knew him to be.</p><p>
  <span>The thing was, he hadn't paid attention to the trip from the hospital. He'd been so focused on keeping it together after his stay at the hospital, and now, walking down the streets, he was kind of lost. Walking down the streets in broad daylight was unnerving. He could feel the people around him step out of his way as he walked, careful to appear as blind as he was supposed to be. Stick had taught him the way he was supposed to move in straight lines and turn at right angles, swipe his cane in front of him to probe the ground. '</span>
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    <em>Blend in, people don't want to pay attention to the blind, they'll be too happy to forget you.</em>
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    <span>' But today it wasn't true. Today he could feel the way people turned around to look at him, he could feel them staring until he was out of their view. He gripped his cane hard enough to hurt, hard enough to keep his focus. His right hand traveled up and down the strap of his bag, counting the rusted metal rings of each punch holes. </span>
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</p><p>He found that he walked steadily North, not really sure where he was going, but certain it was the right direction. The sun made his way up in the sky, indifferent to the way it burned Matt's skin, making him pull up his hood and ducking in the shadows of the shops' awnings.</p><p>And before he could wonder where he was going so intently, a vaguely familiar smell stirred him down another street. He stopped in front of an old building, trying to understand what brought him here, in front of this specific place. The smell of sweat, old leather, strong cologne, made him shudder. A strange sensation washed over him, and he had no way of knowing what nostalgia was supposed to mean. He just knew that it felt equally comforting and unnerving. There were people in there, the sound of leather beating on leather, skin smacking against skin, the grunting of physical exertion. He stood there, listening to those familiar yet unknown sounds wash over him like a soothing balm, and he didn't even register the door opening until the old man holding it open spoke to him with a voice he recognised without knowing why.</p><p>“Hi, Matty,” The gruff voice said simply. Wet trails of salt dripped down his chin without prompting. “Wanna come in ?” The old man asked, his voice wavering as surely as Matt's would have if he'd talked. He didn't, just nodded before taking a tentative step toward the old man, and he found that he really wanted to hug him, and so he did. The strength of the arms around him didn't feel like knives; It felt right and warm. It felt like coming home, even if he didn't know why or what it meant. It just felt right.</p><p>The old man held him until Matt let go, and then waited for him to step in the old gym. The people in there had stopped sparring. They were looking at him, but it was okay. It felt like home.</p><p>“Long time no see, Matty,” another familiar voice said. He didn't know why, but it made sense why everybody here seemed to know his name, why everybody seemed so happy to see him. But he was dying to know.</p><p>“Why do I know this place ?” Sure enough, his voice wavered like the old man's, and it was him that answered.</p><p>“You're at Fogwell's Gym, my Gym,” he sniffled, wiping away his tears with a hand. “You and your dad practically lived here before... Before you went missing.”</p><p>“My dad ?” Matt's high pitched voice bounced across the gym. Every heartbeat around him hitched, and a few of the men started crying.</p><p>“Yeah, Jack Murdock ? He was a boxer, like all of us here. He was our friend, and when he brought you here for the first time, you were just a lil tadpole. We all adopted you, kiddo, and Jack, I think he was glad he wasn't alone to take care of you in here. Before you disappeared, we were planning on who would adopt you.”</p><p>“<span><span>Battlin' Jack,” Matt whispered. He'd heard someone in the hospital say that, but now he knew what it meant. With that, he made his way across the gym, navigating between the men, tense like bowstrings with the effort to hold still, like they wanted to hug him but didn't dare to. Matt was glad. Fogwell's hug hadn't been too bad, but now there were too many memories, too many smells and too many people. He grazed a punching bag with his knuckles. </span></span><span><em>Tightly wrapped around uncle Hogan's arm, he laughed uncontrollably as he lifted him in the air and made him fly in mad circles. </em></span><span><span>He pushed the bag gently, the chain holding it to the ceiling squeaking with each pendular movement. </span></span><span><em>His dad held him tight, just like he liked, and taught him the right timing to punch. 'If you punch randomly, you'll just hurt yourself; You have to listen and follow the bag's movements carefully.' </em></span><span><span>Maybe he remembered his dad's lesson, or maybe he just followed his training; He tightened his stance, braced for impact, and sent the bag flying in the other direction with a single blow. The heat in his knuckles, familiar pain of training and fighting, bloomed across his muscles. It felt exhilarating, and he barely registered the gasps of surprise souring to terror as the bag made his way back toward him. There was movement like the men wanted to reach over and catch the bag, before he sent it flying again with another powerful blow. He'd never done that, but the movements felt natural. He stepped to the side, let the bag swing. </span></span><span><em>He could spend hours just watching everyone punch the bags, repetitive movements, THUD THUD THUDs filling the air the greatest sound of them all. Sometimes dad would say 'Sorry I make you spend your time here, you should be running around in a park', but he'd just keep staring and imitating the bag rocking back and forth, back and forth. And then his dad would just sigh and ruffle his hair just like he liked. </em></span><span><span>He was rocking now too in time with the bag.</span></span></p><p>“You got moves, Matty, must be in the genes, huh ?” Fogwell said, happiness seeping in his voice. “You always did love those, wouldn't stop staring at 'em.”</p><p>“Yes,” he said softly.</p><p> </p><p>This place felt good. He liked it here, but he had something to do. He existed solely to serve and protect Danny, and his own comfort wasn't important. He had to go back to his search for Danny. He went for the exit.</p><p>“<span><span>Wait, Matty ?” Fogwell asked, reaching out to him. He stopped short of grabbing him by the arm. “I, huh, ain't gonna stop you, but... Will you come back ?” He'd enjoy that very much. He wouldn't leave if he had a choice.</span></span></p><p>“<span><span>It's not my decision,” he said, and left.</span></span></p>
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